


Harry Potter and the Battle of Wills

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture, War, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 19:05:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 51
Words: 334,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16540373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Post Order of the Phoenix, Snape blows his cover as a spy to save Harry from Voldemort. To win the war, even those who loathe each other must unite, and many lessons are learned in the process.---COMPLETE. Originally publishedon ff.netNov 27, 2004 - Jul 12, 2005 by Jocelyn (and her mum).





	1. The Beginning of a Very Bad Day

A fine, misty rain drifted down over the rooftops and gardens of Little Whinging, covering everything with tiny drops like delicate beads of glass. The low clouds hanging heavy overhead completely blocked the sun, putting a coolness in the air quite unusual for the month of July. Although the rain could hardly be called a downpour (it was really more like a thick fog), the residents of Privet Drive were doing their best to stay indoors, watching television and cooking dinner.

Here and there, a few cars passed by, off on various errands or returning home so the occupants could leap out with armloads of parcels and hustle into their houses to avoid getting wet. Even in the lightest rain, most people in Little Whinging were highly averse to the visual effect of dampness.

Everyone, that is, except the boy seated on the back terrace of Number Four, Privet Drive. Covered with little rain-beads, his black hair clung wetly to his scalp and forehead above his wire-rimmed glasses, and his damp, too-large clothes clung to his skinny body. Completely motionless on the lowest step of the back terrace, he resembled nothing so much as a bizarre lawn ornament, with his bright green eyes staring at nothing.

Harry Potter was aware that the news was playing inside on the television, but he didn't bother to go into the house. And this time, it wasn't because his aunt and uncle had forbidden it. The Dursleys had in fact been almost tolerant of Harry in the week since they had picked him up from King's Cross station at the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts. Instead of bellowing, "Boy! Come here and do such-and-such," Uncle Vernon now muttered, "Got some chores for you. See to it they're done by dinner." And then Harry was usually left alone.

There was little doubt that the reticence of Harry's Muggle relatives had to do with the greeting party assembled by the Order of the Phoenix to chat with them when they'd arrived at King's Cross. A close encounter with Mad-Eye Moody was enough to give even the average wizard pause, and so naturally, Uncle Vernon had found himself a bit intimidated. Now the Dursleys lived with no greater fear that one or more of the bizarrely-dressed, mildly-threatening characters they had met at the station would turn up on Privet Drive and destroy their beloved "normal" existence if their nephew made any complaints about his treatment.

But all in all, there was little reason for the Dursleys to be worried: since coming back to Privet Drive, Harry Potter had scarcely uttered a word.

After a good deal of instruction from Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley had finally figured out how to use the telephone properly, and so Harry got either a telephone call or an owl from one or the other of them (and sometimes both) every day. Harry preferred the owls; all he needed to do was write that nothing new was happening and yes, he was staying on the Dursleys' property, no, they weren't mistreating him, yes, he was looking forward to getting O.W.L. exam results, no, he didn't need them to owl or call every day.

But that didn't stop them doing it.

When the phone calls came from Ron, Harry was usually able to get out of talking much; he just let Ron tell him all about his summer at the Burrow, practicing Quidditch with Ginny and whichever of his brothers happened to be home, helping the twins with the store, and making ready to run for Headquarters at a moment's notice. Harry only had to make the appropriate noises in between Ron's sentences and give a few one-word answers to convince Ron he was all right.

Hermione, on the other hand, wasn't so easy to fool, and endlessly nagged Harry about how he was doing. Somehow in the past few weeks since year's end, she seemed to have developed a little understanding about his usual reaction to prying, and avoided mentioning outright what she wanted him to talk about. But while she was very skilled at detecting subtleties in others, when it came to it, Hermione wasn't very good at using them herself. And it was painfully clear to Harry that the one subject she wanted most to hear about was the one subject he wanted least to talk about.

It had barely been three weeks since Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, had died in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries, falling through a stone archway that led…well…nowhere. Worse still, his death had been caused by Harry's precipitous rush to the Ministry that led him straight into a trap set by Voldemort and his followers. Harry had gone there to save Sirius, and in the end, that was the reason his godfather had died.

No, he did not want to talk to Hermione or anyone else about it. So he spent every minute trying to occupy himself, be it with the Dursleys' chores or summer homework.

On the second Monday of summer holidays, Harry had finished all his chores by one o'clock in the afternoon, and spent the afternoon revising his N.E.W.T Potions essay. The previous Friday, O.W.L. results had arrived: Harry had received seven, and acceptance into the N.E.W.T courses that would keep him on the track to becoming an Auror, even Potions. He had scored far better than he'd expected in Potions, receiving an "O" in the theory and an "E" in the practical, and by some miracle (perhaps a little nudging from Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore) he'd been admitted to N.E.W.T. Potions.

It should have made him happy, or at least a little smug, to have made it into Snape's N.E.W.T class. But it didn't. He should have felt excited, or at least a little encouraged, by the fact that he still had a chance of becoming an Auror. But it didn't. In a strange way, since returning to Privet Drive, Harry had achieved what he had told Professor Dumbledore he wanted on the night Sirius died: he could no longer see to feel. Anything.

Even when the Daily Prophet had come yesterday with more news of Minister Fudge's frantic efforts to recruit more Aurors to guard Azkaban prison after the dementors had abandoned it, he had felt nothing. No fear, no anger, not even vindication at Fudge's feeble attempts to explain last year's events (particularly why he had not listened to Harry and Professor Dumbledore's warnings that Voldemort had returned.)

What was left inside of Harry was a silent apathy, leaning toward glum. But gray nothingness (kind of like the foggy rain falling on him now) was still better than the agony of grief and rage that had burned at his insides during the first days that had dawned in this horrible new World Without Sirius.

After finally deciding his Potions essay was as perfect as he could make it, Harry had gone outside. Maybe he could send it to Hermione for some corrections; it might set her mind at ease—or worry her that he was further ahead on his schoolwork than she was.

He'd been sitting on the front steps at first, until Aunt Petunia had come out and told him, "If you're just going to sit about all day, kindly do it in the back garden so the neighbors don't have to see you."

So Harry sat in the rain from three in the afternoon until seven in the evening, silent and unmoving, and trying (and failing) not to think of Sirius.

Hearing Aunt Petunia's call for dinner at seven, he got up and went inside, to her scandalized exclamation of, "You're sopping wet! Get upstairs and change into some dry clothes before you ruin the carpet or get sick! What were you thinking?!"

So Harry trudged upstairs and put on some dry blue jeans and one of his jumpers from Mrs. Weasley (he was a little cold, he had to admit) then came back down to help set the table. He did all of this in his usual silence.

As they sat down to dinner, Uncle Vernon watched Harry picking idly at his roast beef and remarked, "Is skinny stylish among your lot, or've you lost your taste for normal food?"

Harry blinked and looked up, startled that his uncle had actually noticed his lack of appetite, then he just shrugged and pushed a fork full of meat into his mouth. Aunt Petunia bristled, "Young man, don't think for an instant that your lot's threats will allow you to get away with cheeky behavior!"

Harry swallowed his food, kept his eyes on his plate, and muttered, "Sorry." His aunt, uncle, and cousin frowned at him, but he wasn't surprised. His voice had sounded strange even to his own ears; he used it so seldom anymore. It just…wasn't worth the effort.

Uncle Vernon cleared his throat. "I've been meaning to have a word with you," he said sternly. Harry felt a brief urge to groan. "Your aunt and I have decided that whatever little state you're obviously in, we don't intend to let you continue this week like last week." Harry scowled at his plate and said nothing. He would have thought they'd be thrilled by his silence. Uncle Vernon went on, "Whatever you've been sulking about, it's no excuse for this lack of respect. So your manners are going to shape up or no matter what threats your lot makes, I'll be taking away the _privilege_ of letting you practice your tricks under this roof. Understood?"

Harry sighed, forcing himself to look up. "Yes, Uncle Vernon." He held their gazes until they seemed satisfied, then looked down and half-heartedly continued eating.

Dudley rolled his eyes at Harry. "What's eating you, anyway? It's summer holidays, and you're acting like somebody died!"

A lump of roast beef turned to ash in Harry's mouth. It was several minutes before he could swallow, but once he did, he looked coldly at his cousin. "Somebody did. May I be excused?" Without waiting for Aunt Petunia's reply, he picked up his plate and carried it into the kitchen.

* * *

 

Curled up on the floor of his room next to his bed, Harry sat over Sirius's two-way mirror. He had shattered it when it hadn't worked at Hogwarts, but repaired it with his wand the very day he got back to Privet Drive. And every night since then, he looked into it and called for Sirius.

"Sirius Black."

Silence. One heartbeat. Then another.

Nothing.

Harry should have gotten angry like he had at Hogwarts. He should have been disappointed, or sad, or at least his heart should have sped up while waiting. But it didn't. There was only his face staring back at him in the mirror, a little drawn from rapidly-lost weight, and little color except for the green of his eyes. His eyes looked empty and hopeless, which made sense, for that was exactly how Harry felt.

The prophecy that Voldemort had lured Harry to the Ministry to obtain—and failed, but with Sirius's life as the price—told that only Harry had the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. And that one of them must die at the hand of the other. So Harry would either be murdered by Voldemort…or Harry would have to be the one to kill him. And Harry couldn't even muster up the will to care anymore.

He heard the telephone ring downstairs. It was probably Ron; he usually called after dinner. Harry didn't have the energy to get up and find out, but a moment later, there was a rap on the door. "Telephone."

"Coming," Harry said, and went downstairs to the kitchen.

"Harry? How are you, mate?"

"All right, Ron. You?"

"I'm at Headquarters. Hermione's here too—with her parents! Everyone's really worried that the Orde—I mean, the Aurors' families'll be the first targets of You-Know-Who, so they're all being moved into hiding."

"Your family's there too, then?" Harry asked, feeling a little whisper of relief at the news.

"Yeah, except Percy, but he's been sent to a safe house. He sent Mum a letter telling her he's safe outside work."

"Oh."

"Don't really know if that's good or not," Ron went on, "I mean, he did stop Dad in the Ministry hallway on Friday to make sure we were all leaving the Burrow. I guess that's something, but with the start of the war and all, we didn't really get the chance to hear much from him."

Harry made a neutral noise. He'd taken to doing that in lieu of talking. Hermione and Remus Lupin always pressed him to speak, but it usually worked on Ron.

It did, and Ron went on, "On the other hand, he and Mum were playing tennis all spring with that bloody jumper, but he hasn't sent it back again. Could be he just didn't have time and left it at his flat, but…never know, I suppose."

"Mm-hmm," Harry replied. This time, Ron seemed to be waiting for a longer answer. "Erm…how's your mum?"

Ron sighed loudly into the receiver. "She's a wreck. She wrote Percy at work, begging him to come here with us, but he wrote back that it wasn't a good idea. At least he's answering now, I guess."

"Uh-huh."

"Er…listen, Harry, you know, Hermione says she thinks you—what?" Harry heard another voice on the other end. No, several voices. All talking at once. Then Ron's voice came back, and he sounded breathless. "Harry, the Or—everyone's back, and Remus has to talk to you right now."

There was a shuffle, then Lupin's anxious voice came on. "Harry?"

"I'm here," Harry said, sensing that whatever the news, it wasn't good.

"Harry, Voldemort is attacking Azkaban, trying to spring his Death Eaters. Professor Dumbledore is on his way there now, but he said to tell you to be ready: it's begun."

"I understand," said Harry, feeling emotions he'd thought were gone creeping back into him, with alarm at the forefront.

"He wants you to stay in your home, and tell your relatives to do the same. We're going to increase your guard, but you're safest within the wards."

"All right—" Harry glanced automatically at the Dursleys in the living room and froze: Dudley was in the foyer, with Aunt Petunia nagging him to take his galoshes. "Oh no. Dudley's about to leave."

"Your cousin? Harry, stop him, he'll be in grave danger!"

"Don't hang up the phone; I may need you," Harry said gravely. "I doubt they'll take my word alone."

"I'll wait. Hurry!"

Harry set the phone down and ran into the hall. "Dudley! Aunt Petunia, wait!" His aunt and cousin hesitated in the doorway. "You can't go out!"

Dudley folded his arms. "You can't tell me what to do, Potter!"

"No, it's not that," Harry said desperately, hearing Uncle Vernon coming to see what was happening. "Aunt Petunia, something's happened!"

"What the devil are you on about, boy?" Uncle Vernon demanded, appearing behind him.

Harry struggled to explain, but kept his eyes on Aunt Petunia. She at least would understand what he was talking about, even if she disliked it. "Voldemort is attacking the wizard prison. All the dementors left, and there's not enough guards to keep his followers locked up. He's getting them out now."

To his relief, Aunt Petunia went pale and grabbed Dudley's shoulders. "You're saying that next, he'll come…here?"

Harry nodded. "Professor Dumbledore thinks so."

"What are you talking about?" Dudley whined. "I'm going to be late!"

"No, Bopkins, you can't go. I'm so sorry," Aunt Petunia's grip on her son tightened.

"What?! You're listening to him?!" Dudley bellowed.

"Dudley's right, Petunia, since when does this ungrateful freak tell us what to do—"

"—Have you forgotten what happened last summer?!" Aunt Petunia suddenly shouted at her husband. Harry didn't know who was more surprised: Uncle Vernon, Dudley, or himself. All three of them gaped. Then Aunt Petunia's head whipped back to face Harry. "How do you know we're all safe here?"

"Wards," Harry explained. "Magic protections. Around the house. And the charm—you know which," he said carefully. Aunt Petunia nodded gravely. "As long as we stay inside, Voldemort's lot can't get to us."

"And those dementy-things, from last year? They can't get in either?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"I…I don't think so," Harry said slowly. _Would_ the wards and spells stop dementors?

"You _think?!"_ Uncle Vernon shouted, just as Dudley yelled, "He's barking! I'm going to Gordon's!"

"No!" Aunt Petunia shrieked, grabbing for Dudley as he opened the door. "Dudders, wait, it's not safe! Why don't we call Gordon and invite him over here tonight?"

Uncle Vernon was still demanding more explanations when the telltale _CRACK_ of an apparating wizard echoed down the street. Dudley and Aunt Petunia froze on the front walk. Harry whipped out his wand. "What was that?" hissed Uncle Vernon.

"Don't know," Harry muttered. "A wizard's here."

"One of Lord Whatsits?"

"Ssh!" Harry hissed. Aunt Petunia and Dudley were still motionless on the terrace.

_CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!_

"I don't like this," Uncle Vernon growled but his voice was quavering.

"That makes two of us," Harry replied, his heart now doing back flips in his chest.

Windows and doors were opening all along the street. "What the blazes is that noise?!" the next door neighbor yelled.

"I—aah—" Harry's mind raced.

"Bank robbers!" Uncle Vernon suddenly shouted, waving his arms at the neighbors frantically. "Fugitive armed bank robbers are headed into the area! Police just reported it! Lock your doors!"

With shouts and curses, doors and windows slammed shut up and down Privet Drive. "Dudley, Aunt Petunia, please come back in," Harry said nervously. "It's not sa—"

" _Avada_ _Kedavra!"_

Time seemed to slow down. A flash of green light erupted from behind a hedge down the street, acing straight toward them. Harry yelled, "Look out!" as Dudley and Aunt Petunia screamed simultaneously and Uncle Vernon tried to shove past him to reach them. Harry aimed his wand and shouted, _"Protego!"_ even though he knew it wouldn't block a Killing Curse.

The deadly green light flew across the street through the air over the edge of the Dursley's green lawn—and dissipated against an invisible barrier.

"Get in! Quick!" Harry cried, leaping off the steps and bodily shoving his cousin and aunt back at the door. Then a chorus of yells through the street made him spin around, wand in front of him, in time to see a dozen black-robed, masked wizards charging toward the house from every direction.


	2. Disaster on Privet Drive

As Uncle Vernon hustled the shrieking Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the house behind him, Harry raced himself for an onslaught of curses. If the wards didn't hold, he knew he wouldn't last long alone against this many Death Eaters. " _Impedimenta!"_ His own jinx flew across the garden and into the street, knocking down one Death Eater. _"Stupefy!"_ Another one dropped. "Uncle Vernon! Professor Lupin's on the telephone! Tell him what's happening! He'll bring help!" Harry shouted over his shoulder, hoping Remus hadn't hung up—and that Uncle Vernon wouldn't be too panicked or stubborn to ask for wizards' aid. The door slammed shut behind Harry, and he yelled, _"Expelliarmus!"_ The Death Eaters ducked. _"Stupefy!"_

Another dropped, but the rest kept coming, and now Harry could hear more cracks down the street and see more dark robes charging him, bellowing spells to bring down whatever was protecting the house. _I'm about to die…_

With a collective yell, the Death Eaters reached the edge of the Dursleys' garden, but then seemed to stop, as Harry heard a noise like a stretching piece of rubber. He heard them grunting and straining, and then there was a brilliant flash of light, and black robed figures were flung out onto the street and into other gardens. Harry gasped with relief. They couldn't get to him. The wards had held.

All at once, there was another _CRACK_ , and a wizard appeared _inside_ the wards. Harry let out a yell of alarm and heard Aunt Petunia scream from the window. "Close it!" he shouted, raising his wand. " _Stupef—_ "

"No! Harry!" It was a familiar voice.

Harry froze, his heart in his throat. "Remus?" he gasped as the other wizard's face finally registered.

Remus Lupin leapt up the steps, ignoring the removal spells and jinxes still being thrown harmlessly against the invisible shield around Number Four, Privet Drive. "Harry, thank heavens you're all safe." He yanked a box out of his robe. "Floo powder. The Aurors have sealed off the network so only residents of this house can get through. If the protections fail, get your relatives to Dumbledore's office. You'll be safe at Hogwarts if the wards go down. Help is on the way."

In the street, there were more cracks, and the Death Eaters were forced to turn their attentions from Harry's house to the brightly-robed Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix now racing to meet them. Within seconds, Privet Drive was filled with screams and shouts, fighting robed wizards, and streaks of colored light.

Behind Harry, the door opened, and Uncle Vernon stepped out, staring from Harry to Remus to the chaos on his street. Aunt Petunia and Dudley were wide-eyed in the doorway. Uncle Vernon looked at Harry again. "You…you…"

Harry's heart sank, and he dropped his head. Then Remus put a hand on his shoulder and stepped forward. "I'm very glad to see your family is unhurt, Mr. Dursley. As long as you stay on your property, we believe you'll be safe from that." He jerked his head at the fighting wizards jumping through hedges and setting cars on fire with their hexes. "I'm very sorry about…all this. We had hoped it would never go this far, and I can assure you Harry didn't want it either."

Daring a glance at his uncle's face, Harry was startled to see a flicker of what might have been sympathy. "This lot's all after you then?" Harry nodded. "What for?"

"It's a rather long story," said Remus, with his hand still on Harry's shoulder.

Behind them, two other Aurors burst onto the garden. "Lupin! Cut the pleasantries; we need you! Potter, get your people inside!" bellowed Mad-Eye Moody, turning around and shooting hexes from within the safety of the wards.

"Right you are, Moody! Go, Harry. Mr. Dursley, keep your family inside, I must…deal with this." Giving Harry's shoulder a little squeeze, Lupin turned and headed for the edge of the garden where the other Aurors were following Moody's example and taking shelter behind the shield.

"Remus!" Harry suddenly called. The last living Marauder paused and looked back. Harry gulped and said in a weak voice, "Be careful." Remus smiled and gave Harry a thumbs-up before jogging to join Tonks on the driveway.

"Come on, get in," said Uncle Vernon from the doorway. Harry knew bitterly that he would be more of a hindrance than a help if he joined the fight; the Aurors were too set on protecting him. Turning slowly, he walked into his mother's sister's house and shut the door behind him.

"What's happening?" Aunt Petunia demanded as Harry went quietly to the living room window. "What are all of…those people doing out there?"

"Voldemort sent them," Harry replied, rolling his wand in his fingertips. Even if he couldn't do anything, he felt better with it in his hand. "The ones in red are Aurors. They're here to stop him."

"Why does this Lord Voldymore want you?" Dudley asked, coming to peer out the window next to Harry.

Aunt Petunia gave Harry a meaningful look, while saying to Dudley, "It's a long story, dear." As she clutched Uncle Vernon's hand, Harry wondered just how much she had known about the first war before Dumbledore had sent Harry to her. He thought of the Howler the previous summer, and wondered how much she might really know about the second one. Turning back to the window, he saw that most of the Aurors were behind the shield now, and Tonks and Remus were dragging one limp form behind the others. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt. They huddled over the man for a moment, then slowly rose, their solemn faces confirming Harry's fear, and he groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

"What is it?" asked Aunt Petunia, hurrying to Dudley's side to look.

"That man," said Dudley, pointing at Kingsley. "Is he dead?"

"Yes," said Harry numbly. Aunt Petunia gasped, clutching Dudley again.

Uncle Vernon joined them. "How much longer is this going to go on?" he asked dully over the muffled racket from outside.

"I don't know," Harry murmured. _Kingsley…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! It's not fair!_ How many more good people would die trying to protect him?

"What happens if those men in black get into the garden?" Aunt Petunia demanded, her voice shrill with fear.

Harry turned to the Dursleys and held up the box Remus had given him. "Floo powder. Remember how the Weasleys came through the fireplace two years ago? If anything happens, that's how we'll get out."

"And where does the…fireplace take us?" Dudley asked, eyeing it doubtfully.

"Hogwarts," said Harry. "My school. It's the safest place in the wizarding world."

"What?!" Uncle Vernon bellowed. "They're sending us to hide out in _that place_ with _your lot?_ "

"Would you rather try your luck with _that_ lot?" Harry shot back, jumping up and gesturing at the battle raging outside. Uncle Vernon gulped, and Aunt Petunia looked ready to cry. Harry took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry," he said curtly. "Remus was right; I never wanted any of this. You have _no idea_ what these past few years have been like! I want it all to go away too, but it won't, and you lot can't stick your heads in the sand any longer."

"But we've got nothing to do with any of this!" Uncle Vernon cried, grabbing the sides of his head.

There was a burst of mirthless, bitter laughter that Harry suddenly realized was coming from himself. It was a strange sound in his own ears. "Believe me," he said, turning away from the startled Dursleys to watch the battle again. "They don't care. Not one bit."

"If…" Aunt Petunia gulped. "If they get through…and come after you…what will happen to us?"

Harry kept his eyes on the battle for a few moments. The Aurors were now all behind the barrier and hexing the Death Eaters at will, as Voldemort's followers renewed their efforts to shatter the wards. Dumbledore had said nothing could harm Harry while sheltered by his mother's blood, but…he turned and looked at the Dursleys. Swallowing hard, he told them quietly, "The year before last, when I saw Voldemort come back, there was another student with me. Cedric," he added, glaring at Dudley. "He shouldn't have been there; it was an accident. When Voldemort saw Cedric he ordered his servant to 'kill the spare.' And he did," he went on, biting off the words furiously. "Cedric had even less to do with it than you do. He just happened to be there. Wrong place, wrong time."

"So," said Uncle Vernon, "as far as Lord Voldything's concerned, we're…"

"Spares," Harry finished bitterly. There was no point in trying to hide it. Dumbledore had tried to do that for Harry, keep the scary parts of the truth secret, and look what had happened.

"Mum…" said Dudley. "I'm hungry."

If Harry hadn't been so tense, he might have laughed. Aunt Petunia replied, "Well, we don't know how long we'll be trapped in here. Go on to the kitchen. Vernon, why don't you go too. I'll stay here."

As Harry's uncle and cousin shuffled off, Aunt Petunia came over to stand next to Harry at the window. Privet Drive was in ruins. There was smoke and fire and debris everywhere; Harry could see several houses burning, but couldn't guess whether the occupants had escaped. They would not have known what was happening. A shudder escaped him. Aunt Petunia asked, "Why did Lord Voldemort kill my sister? Was she a 'spare' too?"

Harry's throat felt painfully tight. He nodded. "He was after me. She wouldn't step aside, so he…"

Aunt Petunia made an odd noise. He kept his eyes on the battle. After a moment, she asked again, "Why? Why is he so set on you?"

Harry closed his eyes and let his head rest against the window glass. It felt nice and cool against his burning, itching scar. "Because of…information. I'm the only one who can stop him."

There was a hiss as Aunt Petunia sucked in her breath between her teeth. "Stop him? You mean…"

"Yes," Harry said, keeping his eyes closed. He did not elaborate. Aunt Petunia's silence told him he did not need to.

All at once, the window glass against his forehead got warm, his scar flared painfully, and the Aurors' shouts outside took on frenzied tones. Harry jerked his head up and felt his heart freeze: a larger, dark-robed figure was moving slowly through the ruined street. As he wove through the greatly-diminished troop of Death Eaters, Harry could see the glowing red eyes, focused directly on him. "Oh no—"

Aunt Petunia yelped as he jumped to his feet. "Who—what's that?!" she shrieked.

"Voldemort. It's him," Harry said, hearing his own voice shake. Remus and Tonks and Moody and the Aurors—Voldemort would kill them all to get to Harry. _Dumbledore! Where's Dumbledore?!_

"Dudley! Vernon!" Aunt Petunia cried, and they came barreling back into the living room.

"What's _that?!"_ Dudley whimpered, rushing to his mother as he spotted the red-eyed creature coming closer and closer to Number Four, Privet Drive.

"It's Voldemort," Harry said, clutching his wand. He felt pulled in three directions: part of him wanted to Floo away with the Dursleys to Hogwarts, part of him wanted race out the door and join the battle, and part of him wished, pleaded with himself to _wake up!_ _Let it all be a dream._ But it wasn't; his racing heart and throbbing scar told him that. The Dursleys were all clinging to each other in terror, and Harry wished he had someone to hold onto just then. He remembered the way it had felt being held by Mrs. Weasley, his godfather's brief, one-armed hugs, Hermione's wild embraces whenever something happened that really excited her, Oliver Wood and the team after they won the Quidditch Cup—he'd take any one of them. Just a friendly pair of arms right at this second to wrap around him and tell him everything would be all right, even if that wasn't true… _Sirius! Sirius, why did you have to die! I need you!_

" _That's_ what's after you?!" cried Uncle Vernon. "That…monster?!"

"That's Lord Voldemort," Harry confirmed, as the Aurors began to back up. Remus spun around, saw Harry at the window, and began to shout frantically. His voice was lost in the crashes and screams, but Harry knew what he wanted. "I think it's time to go." He headed for the fireplace.

"But you said they couldn't come in here!" exclaimed Dudley, trailing after him.

"No sense taking chances," Harry muttered. _"Reducto!"_ The fireplace blasted open.

Suddenly, yellow light flashed through the whole house, and there was a sound like an explosion. Harry felt a ripple of energy, like an electric shock through his skin. "Harry!" Aunt Petunia screamed.

He pushed past Dudley and hurtled back to the window. What he saw made him gasp, "No!"

Aurors had been flung like rag dolls in every direction. From the looks of them, so had the Death Eaters. The Dursleys' garden was smoldering, and their car was on fire. It seemed the only thing still standing was Voldemort, right at the edge of the street. As Harry and the Dursleys watched, the dark wizard stepped up over the curb…and into the yard.

"How'd he do that?!" Aunt Petunia shrieked as Voldemort moved slowly, almost lazily, across the scorched grass.

"Blood," Harry whispered. At their confused noises, he turned to Aunt Petunia and blurted, "He's got my blood!" She covered her mouth, understanding what he meant.

Uncle Vernon didn't. "What do you—"

"GO!" Harry yelled, shoving them toward the fireplace. "We have to go!"

He opened the box of powder and faltered; the fireplace was not big enough for all four of them. Again, Aunt Petunia caught on. "Dudley, you go first! Quick now! Harry, get him out of here!"

"I'm not like him!" Dudley protested. "I don't know how to travel in a fireplace!"

Harry didn't think a Muggle could operate the Floo network, so that left only one choice. "I'll be right back," he told his aunt and uncle, and dragged his terrified cousin into the fireplace. "Just hold still! He threw down a handful of Floo powder and covered Dudley's mouth to keep him from screaming. "Professor Dumbledore's office!" They spun away.

* * *

 

Harry and Dudley tumbled out of the fire into the familiar Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, startling several portraits. Dudley yelped, and Harry shoved him out. "Stay here and don't touch anything! I'll be back! Number Four, Privet Drive!"

* * *

 

He stumbled back into the living room to have a screaming Aunt Petunia thrust into his arms by Uncle Vernon. "Take your aunt! Go!"

"No! Vernon, no!" Aunt Petunia shrieked.

"Come on!" Harry yelled, yanking her back. Through the window, he could see Voldemort had reached the door. Throwing down another handful of powder, he shouted for Dumbledore's office, but the green flames didn't spin them away before he saw Uncle Vernon standing, frozen with fear, as the front door exploded in.

* * *

 

They fell back into Dumbledore's office, and Aunt Petunia ran to Dudley, sobbing, "Get Vernon! Get Vernon!"

"I'll get him! Hold on! Four, Privet Drive!" Harry cried, and the flames carried him back.

* * *

 

He landed in destruction. There was no light except for the flames outside, there was dust and smoke everywhere, and furniture was toppled. Harry coughed and shouted, "Uncle Vernon! UNCLE VERNON!"

Silence except for the crackle of flames and shouts outside. Harry saw light flickering from more than the windows: the Dursleys' house was on fire. _"UNCLE VERNON!"_

He stumbled over rubble, coughing in the smoke, until he saw a heavyset figure lying in the kitchen doorway, covered with dust. "Uncle Vernon!" Harry rushed over and fell to his uncle's side, shaking him. "Get up! We have to go, come on! Aunt Petunia's waiting!"

Vernon Dursley did not answer. He lay still, staring at the ceiling with an expression of utter terror upon his face. Harry shook him weakly as a very cold, heavy feeling began to rise up from his stomach into his chest, up into his throat. "Uncle Vernon?" he whispered, fumbling for a pulse.

Nothing. Nothing at all. And the wrist in Harry's hand was growing cold.

Another spare.

"No…oh no. Uncle Vernon? Uncle Vernon…you can't…what'll I tell them…no…" Harry's breath was coming faster and faster; what was he going to do? Uncle Vernon's wife and son were at Hogwarts, waiting for Harry to bring him to safety—he was just a Muggle, he had nothing to do with this! He couldn't protect his family from someone like Voldemort, Harry needed to… "I'm sorry!" he wailed as cold despair erupted inside him. Uncle Vernon had never hugged Harry or been friendly to him in his life, but now Harry sank down and buried his face in his uncle's chest, rocking back and forth. "I'm sorry! I tried! I'm so sorry!"

He couldn't think. All he was aware of was the body of his uncle next to him, and the bitter guilt that yet another person was dead for coming between Harry and Lord Voldemort.

"Poor boy…" came a snake-like hiss from behind him.

Harry shot to his feet, bringing his wand to bear. "Voldemort, you bastard! He had nothing to do with this! Why kill him?!"

A horrible, cackling laugh rose above the voices without, and the flames within. "You ought to know by now, Harry Potter. I _enjoy_ it!"

With an inarticulate howl of rage, Harry aimed his wand straight at Voldemort's chest. _"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

The green light flew at Voldemort and sent the dark wizard to his knees. Harry gasped in astonishment. He'd done it. He'd struck the Dark Lord with the Killing Curse. _And I meant it…to kill…what am I?_

He waited for the hooded figure to finally fall, but it did not. The hood lifted, and red eyes burning dark and furious met his. Harry put a hand to his throbbing scar. "Well done, Harry. For a first attempt, that was most impressive. Most impressive indeed." Voldemort raised his own wand.

Harry readied his wand. "Maybe it just needs practice," he said coldly. "But now we'll just deadlock again if we hex each other at the same time."

He really should have kept his mouth shut. Voldemort's thin lips curved into a hideous smile. "Quite right, _Harryyyy_ _…_ " the words trailed off into a long hiss that suddenly changed tone, the pitch going up and down in a strange rhythm.

Harry stared, confused, until a wave of dizziness made his knees weak, and with a surge of panic, he realized what Voldemort was doing. He tried to shout another curse, to raise his wand, but he couldn't. With a weak gasp, he staggered backward and turned for the ruined front door, fighting his unsteady limbs and the quiet-yet-loud sound of the rhythmic hissing in his ears. He had to get to the Aurors…he could hear a new voice— _Dumbledore! Get to Dumbledore!_

That hissing was trying to drag his attention away from everything…make him forget what he was doing…ten feet to the door…five…three—he lurched toward the noise outside…two ice cold arms robed in black slipped around his chest, pinning his own arms to his side and pulling him back "N-no…"

Voldemort's face was right next to his, his breath cold and dry as he kept hissing the eerie incantation or whatever it was into Harry's ear. It was as though a warm, heavy fog was settling over Harry's mind, making everything slow down. His body sagged against Voldemort's iron grasp, his head drooped forward, and his wand slipped through his fingers to fall to the floor. The hissing spell was going to put him right to sleep—it stopped. But Harry's strength didn't return; he just hung helpless in Voldemort's grasp, hearing the crackle of flames in the house growing louder, and the shouts of the battle outside. Dumbledore's voice rang above the others, shouting a Patronus charm. Dementors must have come.

With another hissing cackle, Voldemort now headed for the door, half-dragging, half-leading Harry along. His legs seemed to be stepping forward of their own accord, though they buckled often. Harry had never felt more helpless—or useless—in his life. Then he was dragged out into the garden to the cries of horror from members of the Order, with Voldemort's wand pointed at his throat.

"Well, Dumbledore," hissed Voldemort. "Not quite so powerful now, are we?"

The battle had gone silent. With great effort, Harry managed to lift his head enough to look. The view was bleary, but he could see bodies sprawled on the ground, some in black, some in red, Death Eaters now running to flank Voldemort, and the remaining Aurors watching him with expressions of panic. All except Dumbledore; in his eyes was an emotion that Harry could only identify as grief.

"Come now, Dumbledore. Why don't you strike?" Voldemort laughed. "My wand is not even aimed at you. You could easily take me before I had a chance to raise my wand after killing the boy." Dumbledore's expression did not change, and Voldemort laughed again. "So unable to sacrifice your precious Boy-Who-Lived. You could kill me now, and you know it, but not before I kill him."

"Harry!" cried a voice, and Harry was dimly aware of a dark figure struggling against two red robes. "Harry!"

"Remus, no!"

"Let go! Harry!" Remus was beyond all sense, fighting with all his strength to come to Harry's aid. For some reason, Harry thought of that night in the Department of Mysteries.

"Remus, stay where you are," said Dumbledore, not taking his eyes off Harry. "Very well, Tom, you have my attention. Name your terms."

Voldemort cackled. "Perhaps you would be good enough to tell me the prophecy."

Dumbledore shrugged. "As you wish. You may give Harry to me, and I will tell you."

Voldemort laughed louder. The Aurors winced. "You are an amazement, Dumbledore, even now, you dissemble. With the boy in my power, do you truly think I would release him for anything? _Morsmorde!"_

Harry was jerked violently as Voldemort suddenly moved. A Death Eater shouted a spell behind them, and Harry could hear the cracks of wizards apparating away. Voldemort's laughter filled his ears, and the last thing he saw before the world dissolved was Number Four, Privet Drive engulfed in flames, with the Dark Mark glowing green and mocking overhead.


	3. The Green Flame Torch

The world re-formed in what appeared to be a large, torch-lit cave. Apparently seeing no more need for restraint on Harry, Voldemort dropped him to the floor as soon as they landed. On his hands and knees, Harry shook his head as the wet fog lifted from his mind. The stone was smooth and clean beneath him; from the looks of it, the Death Eaters had kept this place for some time. He was in a tunnel, large enough for four people to walk through side-by-side, and there were other passages branching off from it. A fitting home for a nest of snakes, he thought idly.

More important than the creepy setting was the fact that there were no less than ten Death Eaters surrounding Harry, with their Dark Lord standing directly in front of him. This was not good. _Brilliant observation, Harry!_ he thought to himself, and swallowed hard.

Voldemort seemed to only be waiting until Harry came fully back to his senses, for once Harry sat back on his heels and looked around, the dark wizard walked away, ordering, "Bring him."

Hands grabbed Harry's arms, and he felt someone's wand poke him in the back of the neck. He stumbled to his feet, and the Death Eaters hauled him off down the passageway. He got a sharp jab with the wand anytime he tried to look around too much, and before long the tunnel ended in a very large underground chamber. Braziers burned all along the walls, and an enormous cauldron sent ominous green steam into the air over a blazing fire on one side.

Harry gulped. There were more Death Eaters in this room than he had ever imagined existed. Looking around this place, he felt distinctly silly for having called his little Defense group Dumbledore's Army. They were nothing more than a school club. _This_ was an army.

In the center of it all was a large stone chair, its arms carved into the heads of hissing snakes whose stone tails twined over the back. In that chair, with a huge live snake curled over his shoulders and down at his feet, was Voldemort.

The Death Eaters hauled Harry down an aisle through the center of the room to a smaller ring of torches directly in front of their Dark Lord's throne. Harry instinctively resisted, pulling back in sheer revulsion, but the black-robed wizards dragged him into the ring and forced him to his knees. Voldemort's thin lips curved into a cruel smile. "Welcome, Harry Potter. I'm very pleased to show you the hospitality of my humble abode at last."

Some of the Death Eaters laughed. Harry spat at the throne. "Get on with it, Voldemort." There was a little rustle of robes, and the laughter stopped at hearing Harry say the Dark Lord's name. "What do you want?"

Voldemort hissed a laugh. "Right to business, I see. Very well, though I fear you will soon wish that I had dallied." The dark wizard rose and advanced on Harry. "I have no doubt Dumbledore was fool enough to tell you the prophecy. Tell me, and I will grant you a relatively painless death."

Harry retorted, "Even if I did know it, you don't really think I'd tell you, do you?"

"Now that you are in my power, little boy, I assure you, you will tell me. It is only a question of how much pain is required to persuade you. And I am unlikely to believe that that old fool did not give in to your pathetic grief after the Department of Mysteries and tell you."

"Dumbledore never tells me anything!" Harry spat, and found it easy to say so with feeling. There was a little part of him that still felt angry at Dumbledore, that wondered what delay had prevented the Hogwarts Headmaster from reaching Privet Drive in time to save Harry and his uncle. Apparently, he was convincing, for many of the Death Eaters shuffled and exchanged glances.

Voldemort eyed Harry, and he dropped his eyes and frantically began reciting the properties of dragon's blood in his head. He doubted it would work, but it was the closest thing to Occlumency he could think of, although thinking of the dragon's blood essay he'd been working on made him think of Hogwarts, and thoughts of Hogwarts made him think of Sirius. After a moment, Voldemort said softly, "I see Dumbledore has taught you to guard your thoughts, Potter. Not that it will take me much effort to reach them. But perhaps you are indeed telling the truth, and Dumbledore did keep the prophecy from you…to _protect_ you." Harry doubted it would be wise to consider this a reprieve.

He was right. Voldemort went on, "In that case, I shall simply have to make certain it is so, and then run the risk of killing you." Harry braced himself as Voldemort's wand came out. _"Crucio!"_

A scream burst from Harry's mouth as agony ripped through him, and he collapsed on the stone floor. He could hear the shouts and jeers of the Death Eaters as he writhed helplessly in front of them. When Voldemort lifted the curse, he lay gasping and shaking, but in his mind, cursing the Dark Lord with all his heart. "What is the prophecy, Potter?"

Harry stuffed the cuff of his sleeve into his mouth; it wouldn't do to bite his tongue. Then Voldemort cursed him again, and he screamed through his clenched teeth.

And so it went. The Death Eaters laughed and slapped each other heartily on the back as though watching a sporting event, the pain kept coming, and Harry kept screaming. It started to feel almost good to scream, as if he could force all the pain and misery and fear of this place and everything that had hurt him over the past five years out with the strength of his cries. In a way, the agony of the Cruciatus Curse almost helped him, because he could concentrate on the pain and on yelling, rather than let his mind bring up memories that Voldemort might see.

Eventually, the world around Harry seemed to get smaller as agony roared on through him, and black edged his vision. Then it closed in, until Harry found himself falling down the darkest tunnel yet…

* * *

_"Ennervate."_

 

Merlin's beard, he hurt. Harry's eyes felt scratchy as he dragged them open. He was still lying on the floor of Voldemort's meeting chamber, judging by the cold hardness beneath his back. Forcing his head to turn so he could look around— _ow_ —he decided it must have been some time since he'd lost consciousness. There were far fewer Death Eaters in the room, and Voldemort appeared to be half-lounging in his chair, stroking his snake. It was Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, no longer wearing their masks, who had awakened Harry. "Master?" called Lucius, seeing Harry's eyes on him.

Voldemort waved a careless hand. "Continue."

"Yes, Master," said Bellatrix gleefully. _"Crucio!"_ And the world exploded into pain again.

Time lost all meaning as Harry became acquainted with all the fine points of torture devised by the Dark Lord and his followers. Bellatrix soon grew bored with the Cruciatus Curse and asked her master's permission to "try a few other methods." She received it, and happily scampered from the room like a third year on her first trip to Hogsmeade. Harry was left on the floor to wait, his throat raw from screaming, his face damp with sweat and tears of agony. He felt too weak even to lift his head. All too quickly, Bellatrix returned with a small vial in her hand. Harry flinched and buried his face in his sleeve to keep from being forced to drink it.

It was in vain, of course. Bellatrix held up the bottle—its contents glowed an ominous green like the Dark Mark—for Voldemort's approval. Voldemort paused from petting his snake and said, "What does the prophecy state, Potter?"

Harry was silent, glaring at the Dark Lord from behind his arm. Voldemort looked back at Bellatrix, and at his nod, she bowed mockingly, uncorked the bottle, and simply dumped it over the back of Harry's head.

It was like acid. In fact, Harry was certain that was exactly what it was as he writhed on the stone, screaming himself hoarse and vainly trying to wipe the stuff off. Where his fingers touched the wetness, they also burned, and Harry screeched, staring at his hands, fearing he would see them melting before his eyes. To his astonishment, they were not; he could see the translucent green of the potion, but other than that, his skin was unmarred.

Eventually, Harry's voice failed completely, and he lay moaning on the stone, squirming in pain, but (to the astonishment of all, including himself) still glaring at Voldemort. He had never imagined it possible to hate someone this much. The pain was monstrous, but Harry knew that even giving them the prophecy would not end it. He'd seen enough of the Dark Lord's mind to know; Voldemort enjoyed causing pain to much to pass up the chance with Harry, even after he'd gotten what he wanted. So Harry would give him nothing.

Voldemort in turn was at last growing irritated at Harry's resistance. Apparently, neither he nor his Death Eaters (nor Harry) had thought that Harry could last so long without breaking. Why he hadn't tried harder to read Harry's mind, Harry didn't know. "I tire of this, boy. If I cannot have the prophecy from you, I shall at least have your pleas for mercy before you die."

_You won't get either from me!_ Harry wanted to shout, but his voice was long gone. So he settled lying silent on the floor, defiant. For all that this was the longest stretch of time he had ever been hurt, Harry had felt worse pain in his body when Voldemort had possessed him—and worse pain in his soul at seeing Sirius fall through the veil. _Sirius…_ what could Voldemort do to him that compared to that?

Voldemort's lips curled. "Perhaps it would be unwise for me to end your miserable life without knowing what the prophecy states. But I can be sure that success in destroying you would eliminate one threat, and throw all others who oppose me to their knees."

_That's what you think! And even if you do kill me, you'll still have to deal with Dumbledore!_ Harry tried to shout, but all that came out was a raspy, "Dumbledore…"

Voldemort gave another hissing laugh. "Do you believe that old fool still poses a threat to me? Just what do you suppose it will do to him to learn his precious Boy-Who-Lived is dead?"

_No!_

But Voldemort had obviously decided that the benefits of killing Harry outweighed the risks. Even if he had been holding his own wand, Harry doubted he could have put up much of a fight. So he just lay there, resigned, waiting for death to come for him. _This isn't quite the end you read about in battles between Good and Evil. I hope Dumbledore can still get him afterward,_ he thought idly as Voldemort approached and several of the Death Eaters clustered in to watch.

Oddly enough, Harry wasn't frightened. He'd seen the Killing Curse; compared to what they'd been doing to him, a quick end wouldn't be so bad. He was too tired and too hurt to care about surviving anymore, lying here surrounded by Death Eaters and their Dark Lord. He wanted out, any way possible. _I'll see Sirius again. And…Mum and Dad. Uncle Vernon, even. I never thought I'd be looking forward to_ that In a funny way, it made him want to smile. _I'm only sorry for…Ron and Hermione. And Remus. I wish I could tell them it's not so bad. Maybe then they wouldn't be upset when they found out._

But it was clear he would never have the chance to say goodbye. Voldemort raised his wand, Harry sighed and closed his eyes— _at least it's finally over_ —and—

" _NO!_ My lord! You cannot!"

Harry's eyes flew open as commotion erupted in the entrance to the meeting hall. Voldemort stepped back, furious at the interruption, and motioned the Death Eaters to drag Harry out of the way as another one pushed through the group. "What is the meaning of this!"

The newly-arrived Death Eater awkwardly knelt and set a large object on the ground before kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes. His voice shook, "Forgive me, Master. Forgive me! I had to warn you not to kill the boy! It would spell your downfall!"

Voldemort, who had looked on the verge of punishing the Death Eater, paused. "Rise and explain yourself."

The Death Eater scrambled to his feet, stepping back from his master and keeping his head down. "Master, I have obtained information vital to you! I have the conclusion of the prophecy!"

The rest of the wizards murmured amongst themselves as Harry realized, with icy horror, what the object on the ground was. Dumbledore's Pensieve. How had a Death Eater gotten it? The only other person who knew was—

"My loyal servant, I think introductions are in order," Voldemort purred, mollified by the new arrival's information. "Let us see how young Potter reacts to the identity of my informant."

The Death Eater bowed again. "As you wish, my lord." Harry frowned; now that it did not shake, the voice was familiar. The Death Eater turned to face him and pulled off his mask, to reveal a large, hooked nose and greasy black hair. With dark, hating eyes, his sallow face was pulled into a sneer that every Hogwarts student knew. "Well, Mr. Potter. I am pleased to finally have a chance to meet you outside of my day job."

White hot fury ripped through Harry, making his scar burn. Until now, he had never imagined himself capable of hating anyone more than Voldemort. He had never imagined himself capable of hating _anyone_ this much! _If there was anyone else responsible for Sirius dying than me…_ "I _knew_ it!" he rasped out.

The meeting chamber erupted into laughter, from both Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Severus Snape, mask in hand, was in fact the only one who did not laugh, though his sneer grew. "I do beg your pardon, Master," he said mockingly while not taking his eyes off Harry. "I appear to have been lax in my disguise."

That amused Voldemort still more, and he replied, "I will excuse it, Severus, for we can only hide our true natures so much. I will not punish you for failing to pet Potter like the rest of Dumbledore's pathetic lackeys." Now it was his turn to sneer. Harry gritted his teeth. "Perhaps now you will reveal to us the prophecy."

Snape turned and picked up the Pensieve. The Death Eaters tightened their grip on Harry's arms as he wriggled instinctively. Perhaps he could smash it…it was no use. Lucius Malfoy conjured some ropes and tied Harry up. "Dumbledore trusted you, you bastard!" Harry shouted hoarsely. _Why didn't he see what you were, the way you treated people—that **idiot!**_

His face never losing that awful smirk, Snape tapped the Pensieve. "You're quite right, Mr. Potter. Dumbledore did trust me, enough to reveal the one other location where the prophecy was kept in its entirety."

Voldemort frowned, and Snape cringed. "Am I to take it you looked already, Severus?"

Snape bowed low, making Harry maliciously hopeful that a punishment might still be in store for him. "I did not want to risk the Pensieve being lost or damaged in my escape, Master."

Slowly, the Dark Lord nodded, though Harry could not tell whether Snape had escaped his wrath. Judging by the way he was sweating, neither could Snape. "Does the boy know?"

"That I cannot say, Master. Dumbledore did not tell me, but my experience with him suggests not. He's most protective of the children, Potter above all."

"Lucius, Bella, and I have attempted to find out for some time now. Potter said nothing."

"Indeed?" Snape raised a mocking eyebrow at Harry. "I suspect then he does not know. The boy is not so strong as all that."

With that, Snape waved his wand, and the silvery figure of Sybill Trelawney floated into view. All the Death Eaters leaned forward.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him…Born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…And if either should die at the hand of the other, one cannot live if the other dies…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_

Harry's mouth was hanging open. Fortunately, so was almost everyone else's. Voldemort was staring at Harry. Snape said from behind the Dark Lord, "You are irreversibly connected to him, Master. To kill him would destroy you."

"But the boy still has the power to kill him," protested another Death Eater.

"It said 'vanquish,' not kill," said someone else. "What does that mean?"

Bellatrix Lestrange smirked, ruffling Snape's hair. "Then we shall have to find another way to keep the boy under control, obviously."

"You can possess him, can you not, Master?" suggested Lucius. "Surely that would neutralize him."

"That's dangerous," Snape said. "And what is this 'power the Dark Lord knows not?'"

Bellatrix aimed her wand at Harry. "Why not ask him?"

Snape snorted. "For all his Potter arrogance, I doubt he knows. He's really rather dense when it comes to understanding magic."

Another Death Eater threw up his hands. "Something must be done, Master. If we cannot kill the boy, he must be kept where he can do us no harm and Dumbledore's followers cannot reach him."

"Silence." Voldemort waved a hand at the arguing wizards, and then the only sound was the leathery slide of Nagini moving on the now-empty chair. Harry watched, confusion overriding all other emotions. What had happened? What did the proph—he caught himself and cut off that line of thought. Fortunately, Voldemort was still contemplating the Pensieve. But was he necessarily lucky that Voldemort no longer intended to kill him? Harry doubted it. "Severus," said Voldemort. "Your planning has served me well today. What do you think?"

Snape took a casual step in Harry's direction, eyeing him thoughtfully. Harry spat at him. The Death Eaters sniggered. After several moments, he smirked. "Tell me, Mr. Potter, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry went rigid. _No…oh no…_ They wanted to keep him alive, but trapped, and out of the way— _NO!_ He knew what Snape was getting at, of course. He'd never forgotten that question.

Or the answer. The Death Eaters began to laugh as Harry attempted to squirm away once again, fear naked on his face. Voldemort's red eyes flicked from Harry to Snape. "A good suggestion, Severus."

"We would need a place to hide him, Master," said Lucius Malfoy, though he was nodding in agreement. "Where Dumbledore's Order cannot get to him." Harry squirmed harder, and Rookwood came to wrap a burly arm around his neck from behind.

Voldemort pondered the ideas, and finally said, "Lucius, find a place where the boy may be…kept out of the way…" he smiled at Harry, "permanently. Crabbe, Goyle, obtain the asphodel and wormwood for Severus. Severus, you and Bella will come with me, to prepare an additional safeguard. Keep the boy here."

And so they left, leaving Harry still tied up and held by three Death Eaters, with his heart sinking faster and faster. If they couldn't kill him, they would lock him up somewhere that he couldn't be found and force him to sleep…forever.

* * *

 

Harry had no idea how much time passed while he and the remaining Death Eaters waited for Voldemort and Snape's plan to be put into action. The fact was, he fell asleep. It struck him as rather silly that he'd feel tired enough to sleep now when it was possible he'd spend the rest of his life asleep. Snape had made the first year class write a detailed essay on the Draught of Living Death during their second week.

Some time later, he was jolted awake and the Death Eaters jerked to attention by a loud crash in a side corridor. The sight of the cloud of dust and running Death Eaters set Harry's heart racing with anticipation, but Lucius Malfoy emerged, dusting himself off. His cold smirk told Harry all too clearly that there was no rescue to be had.

Harry glared as Snape and Bellatrix trailed into the chamber after Voldemort, Snape carrying a tall and ornate torch. "Report, Lucius," said Voldemort.

"All is prepared as you ordered, Master, The Draught is ready."

"And your assignment?"

"Finished, Master," Malfoy gestured to the corridor where the dust had not quite settled.

Snape was standing with Crabbe and Goyle, inspecting a vial of jet black potion. Harry forced himself to relax. If he struggled, they'd only hold him tighter, and he knew he would have once chance to make a break for it. "The Draught, Severus?"

"Perfect, Master. The torch awaits only your charm. And Potter's blood."

_Always my blood_ , Harry thought.

Voldemort drew his wand and strode to the unlit torch, beckoning Rookwood to bring Harry. Bellatrix handed the Dark Lord a knife, and roughly pushed Harry's arm out to him. Voldemort turned Harry's palm upward, then drew the knife across it in a sharp slash, making Harry hiss as blood welled up from the slice. Then Voldemort, to Harry's surprise, cut his own palm. Harry noticed that for all the Dark Lord looked more monster than human, his blood was still red.

Voldemort circled the torch to stand on the opposite side of Harry, then told Bellatrix and Rookwood, "Now."

The two Death Eaters shoved Harry's bleeding hand against the bowl of the torch just as Voldemort pressed his own to it. The Dark Lord shouted an incantation, and the torch burst into flame. Harry stared in surprise at the fire—it was emerald green, like a Floo fire, only darker.

Voldemort's red eyes went from the green flame torch to meet Harry's. "Yet another magic now unites us, Potter. With the torch, you shall always be bound to me. Even when you are sealed away for all time."

"Is it safe to keep the torch here, Master?" asked Snape, almost meekly. "If Dumbledore's people were to find it, it could lead them to Potter."

"We will close it in with him," Voldemort replied. "I will not need it to know if he awakens. Your potions have made sure of that."

Snape bowed, looking relieved. "They have, my lord." Obviously, making suggestions to Voldemort was a chancy business. Harry only wished he'd gotten to see Snape foul up and get punished.

But now he had a bigger problem. Voldemort smiled cruelly as he turned back to Harry. "Now all that remains is to say goodnight, Potter."

Harry knew it was now or never. He sagged in Rookwood and Bellatrix's grasp as if in defeat. They laughed, leaning forward to pull him upright again, and he rammed his elbow into Bella's stomach as hard as he could. Caught off balance, she doubled over with a wheezing gasp, and Harry yanked his arm from her grasp, twisted, and slammed his fist into Rookwood's neck, forcing the man to also release him.

He was free! Harry whirled, grabbed the staggering, retching Bella's wand, and threw himself toward the tunnel as Voldemort shrieked, "Stop him!"

_"Impedimenta!"_ Harry yelled, aiming the stolen wand over his shoulder, and kept running. He dodged a stunner from Snape that hit Wormtail instead, and ducked a disarming spell, shooting every curse he could think of off in every direction. Glancing behind him, he saw that one of his randomly-thrown hexes must have hit Snape, and he'd fallen in front of the charging Death Eaters, tripping up more than half of them.

_I hope Voldemort hexes you into oblivion for it!_ Harry thought spitefully, and raced down the tunnel. Seeing several more black robes charging toward him, he swerved into the nearest side corridor and careened down it, desperate to find a way out. "Point me!" he hissed at the wand.

It led him down the corridor to another turn, opening into an even narrower tunnel. This one was quiet, and Harry slowed to a cautious walk, tip-toeing along with one hand on the wall, listening for any approaching steps. Nothing. Exhaling softly, Harry crept on, and the wand pointed him around another bend.

_Merlin's beard, this place is like a maze!_ he thought, completely confused now as to where he was. Did this snake nest _have_ a way out? The wand turned him again, and he found himself in another of the wide open tunnels. He edged along the wall, barely daring to breathe. Then there were footsteps, and he dove into a smaller side passage.

This one was the most narrow yet. Stone snakes adorned the walls and ceiling until the tunnel ended in what appeared to be a pitch black nothingness. " _Lumos_ ," Harry whispered, aiming his wand at the opening.

The light revealed nothing more than a claustrophobic chamber barely large enough to stand up in. Harry frowned to himself—what was this dead end he'd found? It looked like a…tomb.

"Ohhhh… _damn!"_

"Language, Potter, language!"

Harry spun around, but Snape's disarming spell sent Bellatrix's wand flying from his hand. "Take him," he heard Voldemort say, and no less than six Death Eaters charged Harry as Snape brought out the vile of black potion.

"Never trust an enemy's wand, Potter!" Bellatrix hissed in his ear as she and the others wrestled Harry toward the opening.

"Get off me! Get _off!"_ Harry yelled, and fought harder than he ever had in his life. He kicked and punched and scratched and even bit, and Death Eaters simply piled on top of him until they bore him to the ground.

"Take the torch!" he heard someone yell, and caught a fleeting glimpse of it passed over his head, but he was too busy struggling to think about that.

"Hold him!" Snape shouted, and Harry clamped his mouth shut. "Get him over!" Hands grasping his head forced him to turn his face toward Snape.

_No! No!_ Harry didn't dare open his mouth, but grunted and squirmed against the efforts to pry his jaws apart. But there was a pile of Death Eaters holding him down, and even in his desperation, he simply wasn't strong enough to throw off the weight of so many determined adults. Little by little, they began forcing his mouth open, and though he bit several fingers, there were simply too many of them.

_No! Please, no, please…let someone come…Aurors…Dumbledore…anyone…please, help me!_

Harry couldn't see; the grasping hands all over his head had obscured his vision, but with a wave of incredible despair, he felt liquid slide past his teeth and tasted something vile on his tongue. He coughed and choked, trying to spit it out, but it kept flowing, and suddenly his jaws were forced closed again, around a whole mouthful of the stuff! "Mmmf!" he squirmed and wriggled, but couldn't get his mouth open again to spit it out, and couldn't hold his breath much longer.

"What is the delay!" he heard Voldemort say.

"Any moment now, Master!" Snape replied.

_Gulp!_ His body had taken over for him, and Harry's heart sank in despair as the Death Eaters roared triumph. "How long?" said someone.

"Less than a minute," said Snape.

"Nighty-night, baby Potter!" cooed Bellatrix.

The Death Eaters piled off him, but before Harry could even think of trying to put up a fight, the exhaustion hit him, making him feel so weak he nearly fell over. It was almost over. Hands grabbed his arms and propelled him into the chamber, which was lit only by the eerie green light of the torch. "No," he moaned at the thought of being shut in here forever.

"Once he's under, we'll seal it off, Master," said Snape from somewhere behind him. The voice began to echo very strangely in Harry's ears. "Between the protection spells and concealing charms, even if Aurors penetrate this place, they'll never find him."

"He's nearly there," said Lucius Malfoy's voice, sounding as if it were coming from a long tunnel. Harry lost the strength to hold his head up. The green flames seemed to be darkening.

"Won't your son be heartbroken not to have Potter's company at school?" said a woman's voice.

"Devastated, poor boy!"

Laughter echoed in the distance, and Harry felt himself lifted and laid down on his back next to the torch. He couldn't seem to see the green light from the flames anymore, but there was some brighter light coming from the opening of the chamber. His whole body felt so very, very heavy…

"Good night, Potter! Sleep well!" The grinding of heavy stone being moved into place was the last sound Harry heard as he sank into an endless well of velvety black.


	4. Blurry Lines

"Pt. Pr. Ptr."

It was like an insistent buzzing in Harry's ear. He wished it would go away.

"Pttr. Pottr. _Potter!_ "

As Harry slowly rose out of the blackness, the first thing he became aware of was a furious, hissing whisper in his ear. _"Potter! Damn it, boy, wake UP! Potter!"_ In spite of Harry's desire to sink back into the dark, the litany did not let up, and the next thing he perceived was an absolutely horrid taste in his mouth. And more kept being added so that he swallowed instinctively, too groggy to wonder what it was.

_"Come on, damn it! Wake up, Potter! Do you hear me? Wake up!"_

There was someone vigorously rubbing his arms and legs, and his unused limbs were tingling as blood was forced through them. Harry wanted to tell whoever it was to leave him alone, but he couldn't even manage to make his lips move, so all that came out was a low moan.

"Merlin's beard, it's about time. Wake _up_ , boy!"

Now they were slapping his face—hard—and his whole body was being shaken. Whoever it was, they were breathing heavily, and there was a tremor in their voice, of urgency or fear. The surface beneath his head and back was incredibly hard and cold. Awareness continued its slow march back into Harry's mind, and he managed to make his mouth work. "Wha—"

"Damn it, Potter! Open your eyes! There's not much time! For the love of—Potter, _wake up!"_

Whoever it was, they were not going to leave him alone. Harry groaned in protest and, at length, managed to get his leaden eyelids open. There was light coming from a lantern sitting nearby—far too much light, in Harry's opinion—and something flickered green. There was a dark-robed, dark-haired figure kneeling over him, still chafing his arms and legs and muttering furious oaths at him. Harry blinked weakly, completely disoriented, and peered toward the source of the green light.

It was the sight of the green flame torch that made him remember.

With a grunt of panic, Harry lurched away from Severus Snape, but his unused body protested the motion violently, sending him flopping to the floor of the chamber with a groan. Snape grabbed him. "Get away—" he gasped hoarsely.

"Quiet!" Snape hissed, holding Harry still with humiliating ease. "Do you want to get out of here or not?"

In surprise, Harry stopped struggling. "You're here to—"

"No time!" Snape hauled him out of the tomb and set him on his feet, catching him when he started to fall and slinging one of Harry's arms over his shoulders and wrapping his own arm around Harry's waist to support him. _"Move!"_

The next thing Harry knew, they were moving in a lurching walk down the tunnel. He stumbled over what felt like a large sack as they staggered into the main passage, but Snape refused to slow down. It was slow going, no doubt with great risk of discovery, but what terror or hope Harry would have felt at this escape attempt was overridden by the fact that staying conscious required most of his concentration, let alone putting one foot in front of the other. Snape was practically dragging him.

"How did—"

_"Shut up, Potter!_ "

Voldemort's lair was strangely quiet. Harry staggered dizzily along, leaning heavily on Snape, as what alertness he had gained in the chamber began to leave him. "Can't…see…"

"You don't need to see, Potter, you need to move. If we're caught, it's over!"

So Harry struggled on, stifling cries of misery from the pain in his incredibly weak body. Every muscle was screaming in protest, his head throbbed, his eyes stung, and now his scar was adding to the litany. "Think…he…knows…"

"Of course he knows by now. The torch—" Snape suddenly growled a curse and threw Harry into a wall, drawing his wand and tossing Harry another. Fumbling for it, he managed to pick it up as the sound of pounding feet warned him they were discovered.

" _Snape!_ What the devil—"

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

The recipient of Snape's curse had no time to do more than yelp before Harry heard the thud of something heavy hitting the stone floor. Immediately, Snape grabbed his arms and hauled him to his feet, dragging him on. With a rush of nausea, Harry realized that the heavy sack he'd stumbled over at the entrance to the tomb had been a body. Snape had killed those Death Eaters.

One of his legs buckled, knocking them both off balance. Then as Snape scrambled to get Harry back to his feet, they heard many shouts ahead of them. Above all the noise was a hissing shriek of rage: _"Severussss!"_

"Oh shit," Snape growled, and hauled Harry sideways into another passage. "Potter, if you can't run, we're both dead."

"Trying," Harry gasped as Snape yanked him faster and faster through the tunnels.

Snape shouted a spell over his shoulder, there was a deafening crash behind them, and Harry heard Voldemort shrieking, "Find them before I make every one of you suffer!"

Snape kept going, practically lifting Harry off his feet. "We've got minutes until they're back in this passage, Potter. Move!"

Harry could barely hear anymore for the roaring in his ears, nor could he always stifle his groans. He felt so dizzy, exhausted, and sick; he didn't think he could stay upright much longer. Something exploded into the tunnel just ahead of them.

The supporting arms let Harry fall to the ground, and he lay there, unable to move. Curses were shouted, and someone yelled, "Severus, of all people—do you have any idea what the Dark Lord has in store for you?"

From somewhere in the distance, Snape's voice responded, "The same thing he's always had in store for me, Lucius. This day has been long in coming. _Reducto!_ "

_CRASH!_ "After all the honors he showered on you these past weeks! What a fool you are! _Stupefy!_ "

With all the energy he could muster, Harry forced his head up. Snape and Lucius Malfoy were dueling amid clouds of dust from whatever Snape had blasted. They were moving too fast for his sluggish mind to track, but suddenly Snape's wand flew from his hand. Malfoy advanced. "I won't be killing you yet, Severus. Handing both you and Potter over to the Dark Lord alive to be made an example of will return me to the position that you were given and scorned."

Snape was backed against the tunnel wall, and there were sounds of grinding, crashing rocks in the tunnel he had just brought Harry through. "Unlike yourself, Lucius, I don't find Chief Lapdog a very fulfilling position."

Gritting his teeth, Harry aimed the wand Snape had given him at Malfoy's back. _"Expelliarmus!"_

With a grunt of surprise, Malfoy crashed into Snape, and a brawl ensued over the fallen wand. In the end, it was Snape who seized it, rolled onto his back as Malfoy loomed over him with a large rock, and bellowed, _"Imperio!_ " Harry blinked in astonishment. "Drop that stone," Snape ordered. Malfoy did. Snape picked up his own wand and said, "Take your wand, return to the others, and warn them we've doubled back in their direction. Insist that they set up an ambush at the main entry."

Without a sound, Malfoy took his wand back from Snape and hurried away. Harry tried to pull himself up, but his limbs simply collapsed under him. His whole body was shaking. "How…far…"

"Perhaps a hundred meters. On your feet, Potter, come on!" Snape pulled Harry's arm over his shoulders, got his own arm around Harry's waist and tried to haul him up, but this time Harry's legs simply refused to obey. "Potter, _up!"_

"Trying…" Harry gasped, gritting his teeth. He felt so weak. His heart was skipping like mad, and every limb was shaking. He felt sick to his stomach. The tunnel walls were closing in—he fell again, winding up on his back on the floor with Snape pulling fruitlessly at his arms. He stifled a sob. "Can't—sorry—can't—"

"Fine. Stop struggling!" An arm suddenly swept under Harry's knees, another under his shoulders, and he felt himself lifted off the ground. Then he was being bounced painfully as Snape broke into a full run. "Stay awake, Potter."

"Trying," Harry sighed, his head lolling against Snape's shoulder. He was so very tired…

Snape must have felt him going limp. "Potter! _Stay awake!_ " The arms carrying him began jostling him back and forth, trying to keep him conscious.

But it simply wasn't working. That heavy feeling was coming over Harry again, and he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. The sound of Snape's voice, calling his name, grew fainter and fainter, until the pain melted out of his body, and he drifted away into the dark.

* * *

 

"Headmaster, I think he's coming round."

"Thank goodness. Severus, you should get some rest."

"I'm fine."

"Professor, is he waking?"

"Please say he's all right—"

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, hush. Harry needs no more excitement."

"Harry? Open your eyes for us, dear. I know you're tired."

There was a deliciously soft bed beneath his back, and his head was cushioned by a pillow. The smell of this place was very familiar, but Harry couldn't make his mind work enough to identify it yet. The voices around him were soft, coaxing him to open his eyes, and someone's hand was smoothing back his hair. "He looks horrible."

"That was one hell of a gamble, Severus."

"Dealing with the Dark Lord always is, Lupin. Count us all lucky he made it out alive."

"But the asphodel-wormwood draught! Look at him!"

"Do use your head, Lupin, Living Death has no effect on the body! The boy looked precisely as he looks now when he first showed up in the Dark Lord's den."

"Severus, Remus, please!"

The memories of what had happened came back to Harry. He struggled to open his eyes. Could it be…was it possible…was he at _Hogwarts?_ Was he _home?_ What had happened? He tried to ask the question aloud, but it didn't get any further than a low moan in the back of his throat.

"Shh, it's all right, Harry. You're at Hogwarts."

Oh! What a way to wake up! Harry dragged his leaden eyelids open, feeling relief in such a rush that it was painful. Maybe it had all been a dream! A confused blur before his eyes slowly focused into the faces of Madam Pomfrey, Professor Dumbledore and Remus Lupin, and at the foot of the bed, Ron and Hermione. Harry squinted in the light of the hospital wing, and Professor Dumbledore said softly, "Perhaps we could dim the lights, Poppy."

Madam Pomfrey disappeared from Harry's view, but behind where she had been standing, he saw Professor Snape. Snape seemed startled to see Harry looking back at him, and quickly walked from the room, but not before Harry noticed that his black robes were filthy and that there was dried blood on his face. He turned his face toward Dumbledore, who had also seen Snape leave. "Wha…happen…"

"What's the last thing you remember, Harry?"

Harry swallowed thickly. His mouth was dry. "Tunnel," he murmured. "Voldemort." Several people in the room flinched at hearing the name. "Snape…"

Dumbledore came closer and patted Harry's hand. "All of us owe Professor Snape a great deal of gratitude, Harry. It was he who ventured into Lord Voldemort's stronghold to save you."

Now _that_ was a bizarre thought. Harry wanted to ask exactly what had happened; he couldn't seem to separate dream from memory, but his eyes were falling closed, and he couldn't pull them open again. "I guess…tell him…thanks…"

* * *

 

When he awoke next, voices drew near to the bedside, and he opened his eyes to find Madam Pomfrey bending over him. He tried to speak, but his throat was too dry. "Are you thirsty?" she asked. Harry closed his eyes and nodded. "Molly, would you mind?"

Harry heard a sniffle, then Mrs. Weasley was helping him to sit up as Madam Pomfrey gave him a glass of water. It felt wonderful on his throat, even if he was mortified to discover he couldn't get his hand around the glass, which meant Madam Pomfrey had to hold it for him. When he was done, Mrs. Weasley sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Harry gently into her arms. "Oh Harry," she choked out, obviously struggling not to burst into tears.

He leaned against her and let his eyes drift closed. "Sorry," he murmured. "Dunno why…so tired…think I slept a long time…" The sound of several stifled sobs made him force his eyes open again. Trying to keep them focused, he looked hard at his friends.

Every single person surrounding the bed looked pale and tired, but now that Harry thought about it…Ron and Hermione just looked _ragged!_ Their faces were pale, eyes red, and they looked a good deal thinner than he remembered. They were practically hugging each other in relief. Remus Lupin looked more haggard than Harry had ever seen him. Even Professor Dumbledore looked weary. Mrs. Weasley's face was very drawn, as if some of her had been worn away. Harry tried and failed to sit up on his own, so he settled for leaning against Mrs. Weasley. "How long…how long was I gone? I remember the Draught…how long did Voldemort make me sleep?"

He was too tired to be annoyed by the apprehensive looks they all exchanged. Remus came to sit down on the other side of the bed and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Quite awhile, Harry. You'll need rest to get your strength back."

"How long?" he asked again. Mrs. Weasley tightened her grip on him.

The bed shifted, and Harry managed to focus his eyes on Hermione. Ron was behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Voldemort took you July first," said Hermione softly, smoothing the bedcovers. "The Monday after term's end. It's September now. Saturday, September the third. The start of term feast was two days ago. That's when Snape got you out." She smiled weakly, though her already-red eyes were welling up with tears, and her lips were trembling. "So…I guess that's about two months. Felt a lot longer, though." Her voice was gradually rising in pitch, and behind her, Ron's eyes were very red.

Harry was dismayed, not even so much by the time that had passed as by his friends' reactions. Mrs. Weasley was still holding him to her with one hand, but she'd raised the other to cover her mouth to stifle her sobs. Remus could no longer look at him, but his shoulders were shaking.

"Sorry!" Hermione squeaked, her breath hitching badly. "Was just…hard." Then she gave up and dissolved into tears, and Ron sat down on the bed next to her and pulled her into his arms, giving Harry a weak smile.

Professor Dumbledore came around the bed and put a hand on each of their shoulders. "We'd best not tire Harry out too much. He will need some time to recover." Seeing the rebellion on their faces, he added, "And many of Harry's friends back in the dormitories will be waiting for news."

With simultaneous sighs, Ron and Hermione got up. Harry watched them with his head still on Mrs. Weasley's shoulder. He heard Professor Dumbledore say, "Harry needs to sleep now. He's been through a terrible time." Dimly, he was aware of Mrs. Weasley and Remus easing him back onto the pillow. The worst part was, Harry wanted so desperately to ease their minds, tell them he was all right, beg them all not to cry…but his head felt heavy and he couldn't find the strength to lift it anymore. It seemed so strange…the thought of having missed so much time. He remembered dreams, though…he'd thought Snape was a dream. Was the part about Snape being a Death Eater real? He couldn't be sure. And there were other things, things he wasn't sure were memories from real life or dreams.

Squirming against the pillow, he forced his eyes open a little longer. "Remus?"

"Yes, Harry?" Lupin came quickly back, taking his hand. "What is it?"

Harry swallowed. "Sirius." Lupin's face fell, telling Harry the answer, but he asked the question anyway. "Wasn't…dream…was it?"

Remus shook his head, squeezing Harry's hand. "I wish it was, Harry. I wish it was."

It had been such a wonderful hope, a way to end the _entire_ nightmare once and for all, to see that black dog come bounding in, barking and whining and poking Harry's hand with his cold nose…Harry closed his eyes. It was a painful thought to go to sleep with, but he just couldn't stay awake a moment longer.

* * *

 

Peace and quiet never seemed to stay with Harry for long. When he woke up some time later, the hospital wing was quiet and dark. He wasn't sure what had awakened him, but he felt a little better, more refreshed, like he'd been asleep instead of comatose. He was just trying to muster the energy to stretch a little when he heard footsteps coming towards his bed.

Furtive, stealthy footsteps.

Harry closed his eyes quickly as the feet drew nearer, and crept his hand toward the table next to the bed, praying his wand was there. What if Voldemort still had it? But then his fingers closed around its smooth wood, and he nearly gasped with relief. He slipped it under the covers and pretended to be asleep as the feet reached him.

"Bloody, pathetic Potter. Doesn't look so strong now, does he?"

_Malfoy_ Why was he not surprised? "What now, Draco?" Harry recognized Crabbe's voice.

"Dunno…maybe make his pillow start eating his head?" _Clink!_ "Shh! Goyle! Pomfrey'll hear!"

"That his owl?"

"Yeah." _Snicker!_ "I can think of a rude awakening. _Silencio!_ Farewell message from my dad—he can wake up with pieces of his owl in his bed!"

Harry shot bolt upright, whipping out his wand. _"Expelliarmus!"_ Draco's wand went flying, and Crabbe and Goyle yelled in surprise. Hedwig flapped her wings frantically and hooted silently, thanks to Draco's spell. "You keep your slimy hands off my owl, Malfoy!" Harry bellowed.

_"What the devil is going on in here!"_ Madam Pomfrey's shout sent Draco scrambling to grab his wand and the three of them pelting out the door. "Harry, what—"

"A little visit from Malfoy," Harry growled, trying to hide his dizziness as he took the Silencing Charm off Hedwig. The owl hopped into his bed to nibble anxiously at his ear, and he sank back onto the pillow.

Madam Pomfrey, well aware of the Gryffindor-Slytherin enmity that was practically embodied in Harry and Draco—having patched up the results of their various encounters over the years—snorted. "I should have expected it. I only hope I'm not going to have to heal him in a few minutes."

"I only disarmed when he threatened to kill my owl," said Harry petulantly.

"Well, I'll report it," said Madam Pomfrey. "Now back to bed with you, Mr. Potter. Convalescence from the Draught of Living Death takes long enough without your overexerting yourself."

Harry nodded, yawned, and pulled the covers back up. "Madam Pomfrey, what day is it?"

"Just past midnight, Sunday. If you behave yourself and rest, you may not have to miss the _entire_ first week!"

* * *

 

When he awoke again, it was mid-afternoon and still Sunday, he was pleased to learn. Ron, Hermione, Remus, and Mrs. Weasley were sitting with him, and Harry tensed up instinctively at hearing the sound of Snape's voice, in conversation with Madam Pomfrey.

"Now how much time did he have before you tried to move him?"

"About ten minutes after I administered the antidote."

"Severus! Honestly—"

"The Dark Lord could sense his return to consciousness within seconds, Madam Pomfrey, better to have a slowed recovery than no recovery at all if we were captured!"

"How long was he conscious after that?"

"I'm not precisely sure. Less than five minutes."

"Severus, can you possibly be any _less_ specific?"

"I _was_ rather distract—don't even think about it, Lupin."

"Think about what, Severus?"

"I did what I did to keep the Dark Lord from winning this war, no other reason!"

Harry pried his eyes open, listening curiously. Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Madam Pomfrey were too busy watching the exchange to notice Harry was awake. Snape looked quite belligerent, but Lupin seemed rather amused.

"No other reason, Severus?"

Snape folded his arms and scowled. "None at all."

Lupin smiled, "Not even to save an innocent life?"

Snape threw up his hands. "Very well, O-Kind-and-Gentle-Werewolf," (Lupin just chuckled,) "I confess: out of the goodness of my heart I walked straight into the Dark Lord's stronghold while he and his minions were out harassing Aurors, dug the boy out and dragged his dead weight back to Hogwarts, completely blowing my cover as an infiltrator and cutting off one of our most crucial lines of intelligence. Do _not_ thank me!"

Remus never lost his smile, but folded his arms and said lightly, "I'm sorry, Severus. You're an excellent dissembler, but you have not distracted me from my objective. No matter how uncaring you claim to be, how despicable you attempt to appear, you will not dissuade me from feeling gratitude to you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for saving Harry."

With a disgusted growl, Snape stalked past Lupin out of the hospital wing. Remus was chuckling along with Mrs. Weasley and Madam Pomfrey when Ron turned and looked at the bed. "Harry!"

Madam Pomfrey and Mrs. Weasley spun around, and the next several minutes were a blur of them fussing wildly over him, until Harry could convince them he was not going to keel over if allowed to sit up. Once they had stopped fluffing pillows, propping Harry up, and nagging him to eat, Remus and Mrs. Weasley sat on each side of the bed, with Ron and Hermione standing at the foot again. Remus noticed Harry looking in the direction Snape had gone. "Don't mind him, Harry. For all his charming disposition, he was as desperate as we were to get you out of there."

Harry stirred the soup Madam Pomfrey had given him. "What happened? After Privet Drive?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. "We knew you'd want to know, so we saved all the _Daily Prophets_ clippings—about important things, anyway," said Ron. "Hermione made it all into a book."

"And…when you're feeling better," said Hermione, "we kept a diary. So you could see…" She blushed at Harry's startled expression.

"You mean a diary like Tom Riddle's!"

"It's not dangerous!" Hermione said hastily. "I talked to Professor Dumbledore about it. Wizards can make diaries that will take them into the pages to remember things that have happened—sort of like home videos without cameras," she explained. "Do you want us to get them?"

Harry slowly nodded, and they jumped up and hurried away. Once they'd gone, he said to Remus, "I still don't understand how Snape…did what he did. The night Voldemort got me…he was a Death Eater."

_"Professor_ Snape, Harry," said Remus. He smiled, but his voice was firm. "Now more than ever, he deserves your respect. I'm sure if you hadn't had more important things on your mind, you'd have figured it out. Severus was a spy."

Harry sat back against the propped-up pillows, digesting this. It all made sense: Dumbledore's unswerving insistence that Snape was trustworthy, Snape bringing the Pensieve with an altered prophecy to prevent Voldemort from killing Harry, Snape devising the use of a potion to subdue him, and Snape knowing when Voldemort would be absent so Harry could be rescued

And Snape goading Sirius to the point where he rushed off to the Department of Mysteries and got killed. "I don't understand," Harry whispered. "Everyone knew he had been a spy after Voldemort fell the first time. How could he have gone back?"

"Severus was playing a double-agent. Voldemort believed he was spying on Dumbledore." Remus grimaced, "Although Severus did suffer after the return, until he convinced Voldemort that he was still trustworthy."

"That's why he brought the prophecy," Harry realized. "So Voldemort would think…"

"Exactly, Harry," Remus put a hand on Harry's shoulder, making him meet his eyes. "You don't have to like Professor Snape," he said softly. " _I_ don't like Professor Snape." Harry smiled weakly. "But he is on our side, and we all owe him for that. He has risked his life many times over obtaining information for us. To say nothing of what he risked to save you."

Harry's insides were churning, and Madam Pomfrey said, "Are you feeling sick, Harry?"

"Maybe a little," he said. "Guess I haven't really eaten in awhile."

"You may not have much appetite for a bit, but you should try." She took the tray with the barely-touched soup away.

Just then, Ron and Hermione came back, with Professor Dumbledore trailing behind them. Ron held what looked like a scrapbook, and Hermione a smaller book. "Good afternoon, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore. "You look much improved. How are you feeling?"

"Better," Harry said. For some reason, seeing Dumbledore gave him that same, funny, churning-insides feeling as thinking about Snape as his rescuer. It was as if he didn't know what to feel. The last time he'd seen Dumbledore—apart from the blurry, almost-unconscious memory he had of when he'd first gotten back—they'd been on the lawn of Privet Drive. "Professor Dumbledore…what happened to Dudley and my aunt?"

Dumbledore's cheerful expression seemed to melt away, his eyes growing desperately sad. He drew a chair up to the bedside, and Remus moved away to make room. Harry wished he hadn't. "Your aunt and cousin are safe. I am so very sorry about your Uncle Vernon."

Harry's chest got very heavy for a few moments, making it hurt to breathe. He didn't know what to feel about Uncle Vernon either, but of all the emotions churning around inside him, guilt was rising to the forefront. He folded his arms and stared down at the bedcovers. "I couldn't…get him out in time. We waited too long." _They never wanted me because Aunt Petunia knew something like this would happen. She was just trying to protect her family. In the end she was right. I brought them nothing but disaster…_

Warm fingers caught his chin and made him look up. Dumbledore wasn't quite meeting his eyes, for reasons Harry understood, but the gentle understanding in the headmaster's eyes brought a lump to Harry's throat. "Harry. What happened to your uncle was not your fault. Petunia Dursley may not have been happy about the prospect of taking you in, but I promise you: she knew the dangers. I made no effort to hide them from her. She took you in because you were in danger, and because danger is something that families must sometimes share."

His eyes stinging, Harry whispered, "But she blames me, doesn't she? They both do." Dumbledore didn't answer, which told Harry all he needed to know. "I was the only person who could have saved him."

"Oh, Harry, no!" Hermione pleaded. "You can't think like that!"

"Why not?" he muttered, gritting his teeth.

"Because," Dumbledore said to Harry as Mrs. Weasley stroked his hair, "one of the hardest lessons to learn is that there will be battles you are unable to win. There will be tasks you cannot perform. You had very little time, Harry, and three terrified people unacquainted with our world to move to safety all on your own, with Lord Voldemort himself coming for you. You did all that you could. You must not despise yourself for failing to do more."

Harry had jammed his teeth into his lower lip, desperate to keep his emotions at bay, but felt Mrs. Weasley put her arms around him again. A part of him just wanted to let her hold him forever, it felt so wonderful, but another part of him panicked—if she held him, he knew he would not be able to stay under control. But he couldn't pull away without hurting her feelings; his throat was getting tighter, and he bit his lip harder, trying to hold the agony in. So much had happened, so much…Sirius, the prophecy, Privet Drive, Uncle Vernon, Snape, the torture, the Draught, the _terror_ …

Mrs. Weasley abruptly kissed his forehead, near his scar. "It's all right, Harry," she said softly. "Everything's going to be all right."

A gasping sob wrenched out of him. Then another. As more followed, faster and faster, Harry heard Lupin exclaim in dismay, but Dumbledore said, "Let Molly handle this, Remus. It is, after all, her area of expertise."

To Harry, it had only been a few horrible weeks from Sirius' death to this moment. And finally, all the fear and pain and anger and shock simply refused to stay inside him, and he clung to Ron's mother and cried. It was so easy now—he should have been utterly humiliated that Professor Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, and Ron and Hermione were all standing right there watching him sob like a baby in Mrs. Weasley's arms. But he just couldn't seem to care anymore.

He cried for a long time, or maybe it just seemed long to him. When at last it started to wear down, and normal emotions like embarrassment found their way back in again, he muttered, "Sorry."

"Don't be stupid," said Ron, who had taken Remus's place on the other edge of the bed so he could rub Harry's back. "Believe me, we've done enough of that in the past few months when we didn't know what would happen. There were times I'd be minding my own business one minute, then curled up on the floor bawling my eyes out the next!"

That made Harry stare at them in surprise; the thought of Ron crying hard like Hermione or Mrs. Weasley seemed just…odd. Behind Ron, Hermione had tears running down her face, but she was grinning. Just then, the hospital wing door opened. Harry glanced over Mrs. Weasley's shoulder—and froze.

Professor Snape looked almost as startled as Harry was. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Harry gaping at him, his face still stained with tears, and for a moment they simply stared at each other. Snape's expression went from surprised to completely blank, and he turned on his heel and marched from the room. Professor Dumbledore smiled at Harry, and quietly followed him out.

"Bloody…hell," Ron muttered. "Of all the moments he had to walk in here."

Hermione swatted him. "Don't say that, Ron. He saved Harry, remember?"

"And I'd thank him myself if I didn't think he'd tell me to sod off!" Ron retorted. "Five knuts says he brings this up first chance he gets."

_"Ron!"_ Hermione snapped, seeing Harry blanch. "Don't worry about it, Harry. Things are different this year. We're at war now. Our side has to unite, and Snape knows that too."

Harry mustered a smile. He hoped she was right. Nodding to the books they'd brought, he said, "So? Let's see!"

"Oh, right," Ron scooted over on the bed to make room for Hermione, and plunked the scrap book into Harry's lap. "Ah…Harry, just so you know, some of this stuff…isn't pleasant. I still get sick to my stomach reading it."

"Erm…okay." Harry eyed the big book dubiously, then shook his head. "I may as well read it—it's not as if I can pretend it didn't happen." With a deep breath, he threw it open to the first clipping.

"Special edition of the _Prophet_ ," said Hermione. "From that Monday night."

**_Boy-Who-Lived Captured By He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!_ **

_Only moments after a major battle at Azkaban Prison, in which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was seen in person freeing his Death Eaters, the Dark Lord's followers launched a devastating attack upon the Muggle neighborhood of Little Whinging, Surrey, striking the home of Muggles Petunia and Vernon Dursley, relatives and guardians of Harry Potter._

_The double-attack stretched Auror forces critically thin, resulting in several losses **(for list of those fallen in tonight's battle, see memorial announcement, Page 5)** , but witnesses report that the valiant defense of the house by the Aurors, combined with defensive wards established sixteen years ago to protect the Boy-Who-Lived, appeared to be succeeding until He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named arrived in person. The Dark Lord reportedly overcame the wards, with the resulting magical shock causing severe injury to several Aurors and Death Eaters and major damage to the street, and directly assaulted the house._

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Headmaster Albus Dumbledore arrived on the scene moments later, but was prevented from taking on You-Know-Who immediately due to an attack by dementors._

_Just as the defensive response appeared to be succeeding and the dementors were driven away, witnesses were horrified to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named departing the house with young Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived appeared to be wounded and under the control of a spell. Headmaster Dumbledore attempted to negotiate Potter's release, to no avail, and the Dark Lord escaped with his hostage._

_The entire wizarding world is shaken to its core by this horrific turn of events. A brief statement was given by an Auror on the scene of the attack, saying that no effort would be spared for Harry Potter's rescue. "To be in the hands of Lord Vis a fate too terrible to imagine for anyone, let alone Harry."_

_Statements are being sought from of Harry Potter's acquaintances. The_ Daily Prophet _also extends its condolences to the Dursley family. An unconfirmed report states that Vernon Dursley, Potter's uncle, was killed defending his wife, son, and nephew. There will be more special editions as this story develops._

Harry stared for several minutes at the picture: it was Number Four, Privet Drive on fire with the Dark Mark hovering overhead. His memory of the attack was a little hazy, especially after he'd been under Voldemort's trance, but that image he would never forget. Down on one side of the burning garden, he noticed a red-robed Auror sitting on the curb with her arms around a shabby-robed man. It was Remus. And with a rush of emotion that made him queasy, Harry realized he was crying. The Auror with her arm around him was Tonks, and she too was in tears.

He hastily flipped to the next clipping: **_Message Received By Death Eaters: Boy-Who-Lived Held Prisoner, Tortured by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._**

And the next: ** _Candlelight Vigils, Offers of International Assistance Abound as Massive Search Begins for Boy-Who-Lived._**

And the next: **_Death Eaters Strike Bones Household, Auror Injuries Reported, No Word For A Week on Fate of Boy-Who-Lived._**

And the next: **_Acquaintances, Friends of Boy-Who-Lived Release Statement of Love, Hope_**. Harry blinked, and read the short article: _A statement was delivered to the_ Daily Prophet _today by several classmates and close friends of Harry Potter, who was abducted by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named one week ago. The identities of the underage wizards are being withheld for their safety, at the request of the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts, but the students and their families asked that their message be run in the hopes that it will reach the imprisoned Boy-Who-Lived._

_"We don't know if he'll ever see this, but we want to say it anyway," said the students' spokesperson, a Hogwarts student in Potter's year, whose great distress were painfully visible to this reporter. The young student was not quite able to hold back tears as they spoke . "Harry, wherever you are, we want you to know that we're not ever giving up. We're all searching as hard as we can, thinking about you every minute. We love you and miss you, so please just hang on. We're going to find you no matter what it takes and bring you home.."_

Harry blinked several times as the page blurred. Hermione had her hand on his knee. He grinned sheepishly. "I wish I had seen this that first night in Voldemort's headquarters. It would've made me feel better. Thanks," he said. "I assume you were the spokesperson?"

Hermione grinned broadly, "Actually, no, I wasn't." Harry blinked again and they both looked at Ron, who turned bright red.

Looking at the bedcovers, Ron muttered, "Told you I was a wreck," but he too was grinning sheepishly.

Mrs. Weasley smiled and reached past Harry to pat Ron's cheek. "Weren't we all. It was Ron, Hermione, Ginny—well, all of our family, of course—your friends Neville and Luna, and quite a few other classmates. They begged and pleaded for four days until we brought them all to the _Daily Prophet_ together."

"Well, we knew we wouldn't be able to sign our names," said Hermione, "so we wanted it to be from all of us, and this seemed right. Even if you couldn't read it."

"The whole country was going mad," said Ron. "Felt like the whole world was, even. Hagrid and Madame Maxine went back to the giants to see if they knew anything—nearly got killed for their trouble again."

Harry grimaced. "Where is Hagrid, by the way?"

"He's been to see you about twenty times since you got back, but something came up with Grawp, and he had to leave this morning," said Hermione. "He said to tell you he'll be coming by first thing as soon his class is done tomorrow."

Ron nodded. "Hagrid and Madame Maxine got a lot of help from other wizarding governments. The French Wizarding Ministry sent an Auror squad, the Americans sent three squads and even used some of their Muggle technology—what's it called, Hermione?"

"Satellites," said Hermione. "Infrared imaging. That sort of thing. We thought that if Voldemort had lots of concealment charms on you, maybe it wouldn't occur to him to shield against Muggle methods, which are actually quite advanced, contrary to what Fudge thinks."

Harry frowned to himself. "Why couldn't Snape tell him where Voldemort's headquarters were?"

"Professor Snape doesn't know," said Mrs. Weasley. "You were in You-Know-Who's main stronghold, Harry. It's not possible to Apparate directly in, and once you get outside, there's a permanent befuddlement charm that keeps you from being able to see where it's located. Death Eaters have to Apparate into the charm zone and then cross inside. We'd hoped that if we could locate where it actually was, we could give him some sort of cover or back-up when he went to get you, but we couldn't. He had to go it alone."

Hermione shivered. "We didn't even know whether you were alive for weeks. It was so awful; some nights I couldn't go to sleep, and other days I just didn't want to wake up. Obviously, we weren't told anything about Snape and the Death Eaters. Right around your birthday, Professor Dumbledore told us you were being held prisoner."

Harry picked up the diary. To his relief, it looked almost nothing like the one Tom Riddle had used; its cover was red and gold. _Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley_ was written on the inside, but like Riddle's diary, the pages were blank. "I charmed the diary so no one but us can use it," said Hermione. "You can either tell it to reveal the words and just read what we wrote, or if you ask a specific date, it'll take you in."

"Very clever, Hermione, but I don't think Harry needs to be jumping into any books just yet," said Remus from behind them.

"True," said Ron. "And it's not as if you can't guess what went on. The beginning's awful, and the rest is mostly us running around, trying to figure out what was going on and feeling ruddy useless."

"Well, you accomplished more than I did," Harry snorted. "I slept through it." Mrs. Weasley cringed and put a hand on his shoulder.

But Hermione said, "I'm glad, Harry. I mean, I wish you'd never been taken at all, but when we didn't know what was happening, we were…going mad wondering if they were…hurting you every minute."

Harry shivered and decided not to tell them what that first night had been like. It would only upset them. "Yeah, at least I didn't…have to wait through it. On the other hand I can't remember the time passing. It still feels like it should be summer holiday."

"That'll ease once you're back in classes," said Remus.

"How much longer do I have to stay here?" Harry asked.

"How do you feel, Mr. Potter?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"Much better," Harry insisted. "Like I slept well and can get up. Couldn't I start classes on time?" he asked hopefully.

Madam Pomfrey frowned, "That would be pushing it a bit, Harry. The Draught of Living Death can have lingering effects, and your body is still weak. You need rest and recuperation."

"But all I have to do is make it to class," Harry protested. "If I miss the first week, I'll be trying to catch up all year!"

Madam Pomfrey shooed Ron and Hermione out of the way, looked at Harry's eyes, and checked his pulse, tutting to herself. "See if you can get out of bed and walk a bit now."

Eagerly, Harry tossed the bedcovers off. "Slowly, Harry," warned Remus. "You've been comatose."

So Harry took a few deep breaths and sat up on his own with his legs over the edge. The sooner he could start classes again, the sooner he could get all this behind him. The last thing he wanted was to start out late, and walk into class one day to everyone staring and whispering, and then have to catch up with everyone else. What was there to do here except lie in bed and think about Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and Dudley and Sirius and that night in Voldemort's headquarters…

Resolutely, he put his feet on the floor and pushed himself up. Ron and Hermione hovered on either side of him in case he fell, but all he did was sway a little. He took a few tentative steps, then a few more. His legs were very shaky, but he stayed upright, and managed a slow walk to the end of the hospital wing and back. Of course, he felt like he could fall right over by the time he got back to his bed, but he masked it with a smile of triumph.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "You teenagers' physical strength never ceases to amaze me, Potter. Even after being locked in a cave and drugged for ten weeks, you'll be up and getting yourself hexed or bitten by one of Hagrid's pets within a week."

Harry sat down on his bed again (nonchalantly, so she wouldn't get suspicious) and smiled sweetly at her. "Does this mean I can leave?"

"On your head be it, Potter. But make no mistake," she pointed at him. "Do not think that just because you feel well now, the potion's effects are through with you. You may find yourself facing unexpected moments of exhaustion or weakness, if that happens, go lie down straightaway. I'll send a note along to your teachers. You should tread cautiously for at least a week— _do not_ overexert yourself!"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry muttered, feeling himself blushing as she kept her finger in his face.

"What classes do you have tomorrow?" she added.

"Er…" In a rush of dismay, Harry realized he didn't know. He also realized he hadn't quite finished his homework.

"It's DADA tomorrow morning, and Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration in the afternoon," said Hermione. "Oh…we picked your classes for you, Harry, I hope you don't mind. But we had to get your books, and we didn't know when you'd be back…"

Harry waved off her concerns. "Doesn't matter as long as I haven't got Divination." Ron sniggered and shook his head. "So what am I taking?"

Paper rustled as Hermione opened the newspaper scrapbook to the last page. "Put it in here somewhere," she muttered. "Aha." She handed him the list.

**N.E.W.T** **. Defense Against the Dark Arts (General)**

**Advanced Defense: Focus on Curses**

**N.E.W.T** **. Potions**

**N.E.W.T** **. Transfiguration**

**N.E.W.T** **. Charms**

**Advanced Care of Magical Creatures**

**N.E.W.T** **. Herbology**

**International Magical Cooperation**

**Specialized Defense**

"Wow," Harry murmured, reading the list appreciatively. "Good choices!"

"Neville, Ron, and I worked it out with Professor McGonagall," said Hermione. "Of course, we knew which N.E.W.T. Courses you would have, but the electives list didn't come out until we got our regular letters."

Ron pointed at the list. "The letters said that anyone who wants careers in Magical Law Enforcement should take Specialized Defense and at least one other DADA course. Professor McGonagall said you want to be an Auror, so we got you that one, and she thought International Magical Cooperation would be good for you too. And we thought Focus on Curses was what we _really_ needed."

Harry couldn't argue with that. Then he cringed. "Even if Snape doesn't mention any of…this…I doubt he'll fail to notice that I haven't got my homework."

The empty hospital wing rang with Ron and Hermione's laughter, but behind them, Lupin said, "Don't worry, Harry, Professor Dumbledore's issued a general order that you be given extra time to make up your homework—just be sure and do Potions first."

Grimacing to himself, Harry muttered, "I'd about finished that essay when…it happened. Maybe by some miracle I'll be able to remember most of it."

Ron goggled at him. " _Finished_ it? Three days after we got our O.W.L. results!"

"I'd nothing better to do!"

Madam Pomfrey clapped her hands at them. "Mr. Potter, if you're so determined to get to classes tomorrow, I suggest you return to your dormitory at once and have a good night's sleep. You'll need it. Now off with you!"


	5. Two Steps Floorward

Despite his pleas and assurances to Madam Pomfrey, Harry's body turned out to be far less fit than he'd claimed it to be, after two months of total inactivity. With Ron and Hermione carrying the small bag of his things from the hospital wing, he managed to walk slowly with them to Gryffindor Tower. But by the time they went through the portrait, Harry was growing worried that he wouldn't make it up the stairs to the sixth year boys' dormitory, and his friends were looking at him with concern.

"Harry, you're sure you're ready to start classes?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he panted, leaning against the wall. "Just a little out of shape."

"You look ragged, mate," said Ron. "Sit down first before we go up. Everyone's going to swamp you in a minute anyway."

Sure enough, Katie Bell glanced their way a moment later and let out a shriek louder than the one she'd uttered when Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup. _"HARRY!"_

Harry barely had time to fall into an armchair before he wound up in the center of a squealing, shrieking, yelling, whooping, (and in some cases, sobbing) mob of Gryffindors.

"Oh, Harry, thank heavens you're all right—"

"You're okay, then, Harry?"

"Madam Pomfrey let you OUT!"

"Is it true Snape rescued you?"

"Did You-Know-Who hurt you?"

"Where've you been?"

"What happened!"

"I heard they poisoned you—"

"OY!" Ron bellowed, bringing the ruckus to a stop better than Hermione's pleadings at them to give Harry some space. "He just got out of the clutches of Lord Voldemort—" (nearly everyone shivered) "—so let's not smother him now, eh?"

With collective muttered apologies, the entire population of Gryffindor House stepped back as one. However, they still hovered anxiously around Harry. "All right, Potter," growled Seamus Finnegan's voice from somewhere by the fireplace. "Spill it!"

Harry blinked at them and looked over at Ron and Hermione, who shrugged helplessly. He took a deep breath, and finally said, "Well, I'm back."

* * *

 

"Harry! Wake up, you're going to miss breakfast!"

Harry was jolted out of a deep sleep with vague, unpleasant dreams. His eyes felt scratchy and his whole body felt heavy. "Ron?" He rubbed his eyes furiously. "Why didn't you poke me?" he mumbled, realizing he'd overslept.

"I did," said Ron, looking miffed. "You fell asleep again." He sat down on the edge of the bed as Harry went fumbling for his clothes and glasses. "You all right, mate?"

"I'm fine," said Harry, stumbling to the bathroom. "Just tired. You go down without me."

"No rush."

By the time Harry had splashed some nearly-scalding water on his face to wake up, gotten himself dressed, and come back to the boys' dormitory, Hermione was there waiting with Ron. "Should one of us hold your bag for you?" Hermione offered.

"I can do it myself!" Harry snapped, and she flinched. He sighed irritably. "Sorry. I'll just never get back into shape if I don't try."

"But you don't want to wind up back in the hospital wing either," said Hermione. "I read about the aftereffects of that Draught—if you relapse, you could be sick for days."

Harry compromised by putting a Shrinking Charm on his bag and carrying it in his pocket. It was a relief, because just picking up the books one at a time had made his arms shake. "Right. Let's go, then."

They trooped out of the dormitory; Harry was forced to take it frustratingly slow on the stairs. "We may have to eat quickly at breakfast," said Hermione.

Ron shrugged, "Don't think it'll be too great a problem. And even if we're late for DADA, I doubt Harry'll get into trouble today."

Harry thought of another detail that hadn't occurred to him until now. "By the way, who's teaching Defense this year?"

Ron and Hermione paused on the stairs to look at him in surprise, then exchanged amused glances. "Blimey, I guess we forgot," Ron chuckled.

"Well, who is it?" Harry repeated, baffled by their expressions.

Grinning sweetly, Hermione skipped a few stairs ahead of them. "Oh, you can wait and see."

* * *

 

The Great Hall went very quiet as Ron and Hermione came in with Harry in tow. "This will be good," Ron muttered at him as he followed them to the Gryffindor table.

"Harry!" a voice finally cried, and that set off a great stampede of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws, with Ginny Weasley at the forefront.

Harry managed not to get knocked over as they mobbed around him, and demanded to Ginny, "Where've you been?"

She laughed, "Oh, I was in the Common Room last night, but you were surrounded, so I didn't want to bother you."

"You never bother me," he replied easily, and gave her a hug. "How have you been?"

Ginny heaved a sigh. "Same as everybody else: a complete wreck. But better, now that you're back." Harry was startled by how much older she looked; she'd grown quite a bit and was now almost Hermione's height. And in her face were the same shadows of recent and prolonged grief and worry that he'd seen on so many of his friends. In his memory, it hadn't been that long since she, with him, had faced off with some of Voldemort's nastiest Death Eaters. What innocence she'd still had after Tom Riddle finished with her was now long gone.

Ginny back away to let Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott say hello to Harry, then suddenly stood on her toes and mouthed something at him, her eyes wide in warning. Harry blinked, but before he could call her back to get her message, he spotted what she'd seen: Cho Chang pushing past the Creevy brothers. _Oh…right._ He mustered a smile and waited for her to approach.

"Er…hi, Harry," said Cho, and it relieved him a little to see that she was as nervous as he was.

"Hi, Cho," he replied awkwardly. She didn't look quite so desperately sad as she had fifth year, but she didn't look happy again either. "Ah…how are you?"

"I'm all right," she said. "Just wanted to…tell you how glad I am that you're…safe. We've all been so worried."

"Thanks," he said. She gave him a little smile and shuffled away through the crowd, then Harry was distracted by getting pounced on by Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot of Ravenclaw.

By the time he finally managed to sit down, breakfast was nearly over. "Shouldn't you eat a little more?" said Hermione as he nibbled some toast.

"Not very hungry," he replied.

"You're going to need your energy," she persisted. "Just have some…"

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. "Don't nag the man!"

"I'm just—"

"I'm _fine_!" Harry snapped.

With a scowl, she returned to her eggs and muttered, "Then don't complain if you faint in the middle of Defense."

Before Harry could retort, a voice said behind them, "Don't worry, he won't be participating in any demonstrations today."

Ron and Hermione both grinned broadly. Harry turned in surprise. "Rem—Professor Lupin!"

* * *

 

And so Harry discovered that the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was…not so new at all! Once-again-Professor Lupin walked to the front of the D.A.D.A. classroom to thunderous applause from nearly all of the sixth year N.E.W.T. Defense class. Realizing that they had no less than three classes with Remus this year made Harry the happiest he'd felt in a _very_ long time.

And the rest of the students were just as happy to see Professor Lupin as Harry was—well, not quite, perhaps, but they were thrilled. "Finally!" cried Dean Thomas, flinging out his arms as if ready to embrace Lupin. "We haven't had a decent D.A.D.A. Professor since you _left_!"

"What about Moody?" protested Lavender Brown.

Harry grinned, "He was all right, if you discount the fact that he was working for Voldemort!" About half of the class, now comprised of students from all four houses, flinched.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," muttered Hermione. "When will people get over that silly stigma?"

"Silly stigma!" exclaimed Terry Boot. "We're talking about You-Know-Who—"

" _Actually_ ," said Professor Lupin loudly over the brewing storm of an argument. "Hermione is correct. We are talking about Lord Voldemort." He smiled as several of them shivered. "As it happens, one of the items on this year's N.E.W.T. Defense curriculum is psychological preparation. Can anyone take a guess as to what that's about? Yes, Hermione?"

"Preparing ourselves psychologically means learning to not let our emotions—such as fear or anger—get in the way of our ability to defend ourselves against dark magic."

"Precisely. Five points to Gryffindor. And while we're on the subject, can anyone tell me what the speaking of Lord Voldemort's name has to do with this—someone _else_ this time, forgive me, Hermione."

The class tittered. Lupin smiled, and Hermione blushed, but she didn't look too terribly put-out. Harry and Ron pondered raising their hands, then decided against it. At length, Neville slowly raised his hand. "Fear of a name only increases fear of the bearer?"

"Warm, Mr. Longbottom, definitely warm," said Lupin, rubbing his hands together briskly. "And how would that be detrimental to our ability to defend ourselves against a dark wizard if we ever ran across him? For another five points."

Neville chewed on his lip. "Because fear…makes it hard to think straight. And if you can't think…you can't really fight."

"Excellent, Neville, another five points to Gryffindor." The Gryffindors beamed at Neville. Professor Lupin nodded and went to the chalkboard. "Now, as a preliminary assignment, we are going to deal with this particular fear, by facing it head-on. Therefore…one of the primary rules of this class, Advanced General Defense Against the Dark Arts, is this: we shall refer to all sources of dark magic, be it a dark creature, a curse, or a dark wizard, by it's proper…name," he said as he wrote out _VOLDEMORT_ on the board.

Turning back to them, he smiled knowingly at the expressions of horror on some of the students' faces. "Now, I am aware that this will take some getting used to. Therefore, this first week, we'll consider it practice. Whenever you are in this classroom, you will defend yourself against fear of Lord Voldemort—" he took note of those who jumped, "by using his name, and not 'You-Know-Who.' Beginning next week, just to add a little incentive, it will be a point off the house of anyone caught referring to Lord Voldemort with anything other than his name. The following week, five points, and so on. You _cannot_ overcome or even confront your fears face-to-face without first doing so in your mind," he said firmly over the rebellious murmurs. "And among other things, this class is going to teach you to do just that."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione smiled broadly at each other. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a bad year after all.

At the end of class, all three of them lingered—although getting to talk to Remus turned out to be a little easier said than done, because a good number of their classmates wanted to pause at his desk and tell him how glad they were to have him back. Grinning even more broadly, Harry, Hermione, and Ron hung back and watched as Remus's normally-careworn expression took on a glow of pleased confidence. "D'you suppose he realized how much we missed him?" sighed Hermione. "At least this year we're going to learn Defense the proper way."

As Lavender and Parvati filtered out the door with Mandy Brocklehurst and Stephen Cornfoot of Ravenclaw after adding their welcomes to the group, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way up. Remus broke into a wide smile and stood up to shake each of their hands. "Ah, Harry, Ron, Hermione, it's wonderful to see you back in class. And I'm quite grateful for the votes of confidence."

"Obviously we're not the only ones," said Ron, jerking his head at the door where Remus's supporters had just departed. "It's good to have you back. We could really use a competent teacher."

"That's just how Professor Dumbledore put it," laughed Remus, shaking his head. "Apparently, now everyone's so worried about Voldemort that a little old werewolf teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts doesn't seem so threatening. That and the fact that I was the only candidate this year. It's true!" he grinned as they all stared in astonishment. "Well, all right, I take that back; I suppose you did have one other viable candidate in the oh-so-deeply-missed Dolores Umbridge, who is apparently desperate for work—" then he laughed harder than ever at their expressions of horror. "I'm only teasing; don't panic."

Harry sighed. "It doesn't really matter why, I guess, as long as you're here."

Remus's brown eyes turned solemn, and he said, "I'm not going anywhere, Harry, never fear."

As Harry felt a hard lump take over his throat, Ron and Hermione came to his rescue. "We've got Care of Magical Creatures this afternoon. Is Hagrid back yet? He wasn't at breakfast."

"He's been getting his assorted magical creatures ready," said Lupin. "It's his first advanced class; he's very excited." Then he frowned. "Though I wonder if you ought to be walking all the way down there, Harry."

Harry groaned, but Ron sniggered. "I could give you a pig-a-back ride!" The resulting mental image set them all laughing.

"I haven't had a chance to see Hagrid yet," Harry said to Lupin. "He'd feel better if I made it to his class on the first day."

Lupin shook his head. "If Madam Pomfrey's released you, there's nothing I can do but caution you to take it easy. Living Death is a powerful potion, and it's not possible that you're fully recovered. You look peaky even now."

Harry sighed, but nodded. "I promise, no riding hippogriffs or wrestling cave trolls for at least a week."

"That's all I ask," said Lupin with a perfectly straight face, then they all laughed again. "Now be off with you and eat a good lunch before that class!"

"I keep telling him!" Hermione complained as they went out the door.

"Oh, Harry?" Lupin beckoned him back to the desk while Ron and Hermione hovered in the doorway. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder and drew him close. "Just so you know," he said softly. "No matter what…if you need to talk anytime, anytime at all, come to my office."

* * *

 

Despite his insistence to friends and teachers that he would be fine, by lunchtime, Harry was beginning to feel dragged out, and that heavy sensation was returning to his bones. He thought about skipping lunch and slipping up to the dormitory for a nap, but decided to go to the Great Hall in the hope of seeing Hagrid.

Unfortunately, not only was Hagrid not in the Great Hall, but as usual, Ron and Hermione noticed Harry dragging his feet. "I don't think you should go to class this afternoon," said Hermione. "You look completely exhausted."

"I'll make it," Harry muttered, shoving mashed potatoes into his mouth. He still wasn't hungry, but he hoped it would perk him up.

Ron checked his watch. "We've got break for an hour before class. Maybe you should go back to the Tower and lie down for a bit."

"Suppose I could," Harry said, though the thought of walking all the way back to the Tower made him want to groan. He forced down a little more food, but he had his head propped on his hand to keep himself somewhat upright. And there was the danger of a teacher noticing, and him being hauled back to the hospital wing. _Just get through classes,_ he told himself. _Then you can skip the evening study session and go to bed early._

But there was still the question of getting back to the dormitory. In his state, it would take twenty minutes just to get there, and that wouldn't leave much time for a nap. So Harry decided he'd find himself a quiet spot in the library and just put his head down—as long as Madam Pince didn't catch him. Yawning, he got up. "I'll meet you out front when it's time to go," he told Ron and Hermione.

He walked to the library, but found it rather busy with students looking up books for early semester essays. Frustrated, he wandered around until he stumbled (literally) into Ginny, who was reading about Vanishing Charms for O.W.L.s. "Hi, Harry!" she said in surprise, and moved her books aside at the table. "Do you need some room to work?"

Glancing around, he admitted sheepishly, "Sleep is more like it. I wanted to put my head down for a bit before class. The Tower's a long way to walk."

Ginny's eyes widened in concern. "Are you all right?" she asked in a way that immediately raised his hackles.

_Don't be cross, don't be cross, she's just being nice!_ He forced himself to nod. "Madam Pomfrey said I'd get tired easily the first few days. It'll pass."

With a grin, she cleared off the table. "I'll stand guard then in case Madam Pince turns up."

"Thanks!" he said with feeling, and they both chuckled. Neither had forgotten how much trouble they'd been in when Madam Pince had caught them eating Easter Eggs in the library last year.

Ginny scooted her chair around so she could see if anyone came into their section, and motioned him to his, so Harry gratefully set his bag down and put his head in his arms. Within seconds, he was dead to the world.

_The red light of Bellatrix Lestrange's curse hit Sirius right in the chest._

_The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock._

_Harry released Neville, though he was unsure of what he was doing. He was jumping down the steps again, pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore turned to the dais too._

_It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch…_

_And Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as if in a high wind then fell back into place…_

"Harry? Harry, the bell just rang." Someone was gently shaking his shoulder.

Harry jerked his head up, his stomach churning, his hands trembling, and a cry still rising in his throat. He stifled it and blinked at a startled Ginny. "Oh…class. Right. Thanks."

His throat was painfully tight. Now this was all too much like that moment last Easter, when he'd wanted nothing more than to talk to Sirius… "Harry? Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah," he gasped, gulping in deep breaths. "Just…bad dream." Her eyes softened with understanding, and she moved toward him, but he stepped away. Hugs from Weasleys seemed to break him down faster than anything these days, and he didn't want that to happen. He mustered a smile to avoid hurting her feelings, and she nodded and patted his shoulder instead. "I've got to meet Ron and Hermione. We have Hagrid this afternoon."

"Oh, good!" she exclaimed heartily, glad to change the subject. "He'll be delighted to see you. Just don't wear yourself out."

"I'll do my best," he chuckled, and waved at her as he hurried out of the library.

* * *

 

When Harry met Ron and Hermione at the front entrance, they were pleased to find him more alert (if still yawning quite a bit.) However, it was all Harry could do to keep up his appearance of fitness, because the walk down to Hagrid's hut took longer than he ever remembered it taking, and by the time they got there, he was winded.

"Oy! Harry! You okay?" asked Michael Corner, noticing Harry leaning slightly on Ron when they arrived.

Harry debated between ignoring the mutterings or telling them all off. He decided on neither. "Yeah," he laughed, making a joke of it. "Just a little out of shape." It worked; Michael and the other staring sixth years grinned.

All, that is, except Draco and his entourage. "Look at it. The great Boy-Who-Lived can't even walk without someone carrying his bags for him."

Ron dropped Harry's arm and his bag, but Harry pulled out his wand. "A little out of shape, but as you found out Saturday night, I can still hex you in my sleep!" His hand holding the wand, he was relieved to see, was quite steady.

Malfoy scowled, but didn't try to go for his own wand, and Hermione said sweetly, "Oh, don't feel bad, Draco. For the first time in your life, there's _something_ you can beat Harry at—even if it's only a footrace."

Dean and Seamus let out great snorts of laughter, and Parvati and Padma Patil began giggling loudly. "What happened Saturday night?" asked Neville.

"Malfoy tried to pay a little visit," said Harry with a shrug, sitting down on a tree stump. "Had to hex him before he was convinced I didn't want good wishes in the middle of the night."

"Good wishes, my—" Ron muttered something that made Hermione swat him, then Hagrid's door flew open.

"Harry! I didn't think yeh'd make it!"

"Here I am," Harry laughed as the half-giant ignored the rest of the class and ran down to throw his arms around him. "Wouldn't miss this for the world!"

Hagrid blushed, "Nice of yeh, so soon after…anyway. Welcome, everyone, ter Advanced Care o' Magical Creatures! We're dealin' with some pretty wild beasts this year, so I 'ope yer all ready!"

"Blimey, what's his idea of 'wild?'" Ron muttered.

"Righ'. Follow me, then! Oh…" Hagrid frowned. "Harry, 't's a bit of a walk. Yeh migh' need a lift."

Harry felt blood rush to his face and heard his classmates' laughter (loudest from Malfoy) at the thought of Hagrid carrying him off to wherever they were holding their lesson today. "Er…no, thanks, I'll be fine."

"Sure?" Hagrid shrugged. "Well, we'll take it slow. Foller me then, all o' yeh!"

Though Hagrid did lead them slowly along, talking about the winged horse that he'd kept tethered to this tree or the Kneazles he'd raised in that pen, Harry was hard-pressed to keep up. He forced a cheerful smile, pretending he didn't mind having to lean against trees (or Ron) every few moments or the thin sheen of sweat on his face and his shortness of breath. "Bloody hell, Potter's turned into an even bigger weakling than Longbottom!" Malfoy whispered loudly to Blaise Zabini.

"Sure you don't want a lift, Harry?" Ron asked. "I'll carry you on my back so you'll have your wand hand free to hex Malfoy!" Walking in a protective knot around them, the sixth year D.A. members sniggered.

Harry grinned. "I'd be too heavy for you."

"Oh, go on, try it!" giggled Neville.

"It'd be rather fun to see Malfoy's face," Hermione said slyly.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, then Harry handed his bag to a helplessly giggling Dean. Ron crouched. "One, two, three—whoooaa!" he staggered crazily when Harry jumped onto his back. The D.A. dissolved into laughter as they managed to get upright, but tottered around like a top-heavy suit of armor.

Hagrid looked back at them and grinned. "Got that lift after all, Harry?"

"Such as it is!" Harry yelped as Ron nearly careened them into a tree. "Come on, I can't weigh _that_ much!"

"No, but you've got a hand over my face!"

"Oh, sorry." Harry moved his hand away, and Ron finally got his bearings and began galloping along like a horse, causing shrieks of laughter. From all the bouncing and laughing, Harry himself could barely breathe, and somehow he doubted that this was making him use up any less energy—but it was lots more fun. "Onward!"

"You look like a chess knight!" yelled Dean.

"Get your wand ready, Harry! Knight to Black King!" Ron cried gleefully, and bore down on Malfoy. "Charging!"

At Malfoy's flabbergasted expression at the suddenly-eight-foot-tall Harry-Ron creature bearing down on him, Harry laughed so hard he could barely point his wand to deliver a Leg-Locker curse. The few Slytherins in the class shouted in outrage and went for their wands, but they were vastly outnumbered by D.A. members.

"All righ', all righ', enough o' that!" said Hagrid, who had been watching with amusement for several minutes. "Pipe down, pipe down. Blimey, Harry, yer almost as tall as me now! Back to the ground with yeh." Giggling helplessly, Harry managed to get off Ron's back without crashing them both into the dirt. "Have a seat. All of yeh have a seat. Stay well back there."

Settled on a patch of grass, Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged apprehensive looks. "Anyone care to place a wager?" muttered Ron.

"I don't," whispered Harry. "We could each bet on the worst thing we could think of and he'll come up with something worse." They all sat up and paid attention as Hagrid started his lecture.

"Now, this class bein' advanced and all, I figure yeh ought ter be learnin' 'bout controllin' and protectin' yerself from dangerous creatures, not the nice fluffy little things I've been showin' you in past years." Even Hermione couldn't quite hide her expression of disbelief. Hagrid ignored their gapes and continued, "Now, I got me permission from the Headmaster, so don't go complainin' that this is too hard. If yeh think so, yeh can always drop the class." He smiled at them. "But so long as yeh follow me directions, yeh should do fine."

"Bloody…hell…" Ron muttered.

With that ominous-but-cheerful warning, Hagrid said, "Now, I'll be right back," and vanished into the woods, giving them all just enough time to start really worrying.

"Maybe he finally got a dragon," said Hermione.

"Dragon eggs?" suggested Harry. "For each of us to raise?"

Ron frowned. "You'd think I'd have heard from Charlie if that were it."

"Maybe it's a basilisk," said Hermione dryly.

"Don't even joke about that," said Harry. "Then I _would_ drop this class."

"One enough for you, eh, mate?" Ron jibed.

"More than enough." Harry yawned. "Whatever it is, it better be interesting—and noisy—or else I'm going to get sleepy again."

"Blimey, at this rate I'm going to be piggy-backing you all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, aren't I?"

"Sod off," said Harry cheerfully, and leaned against the bole of a tree, closing his eyes. It was very pleasant. _If Hagrid doesn't get back soon, I might really—_

A tree-shaking roar and a sound like a blowtorch brought him bolt upright, wide awake, and scrambling to his feet, along with everyone else. The sixth years all huddled in a knot of anticipatory alarm as something came crashing back through the trees. "Think you were right, Ron," said Dean. "About the dragon."

Hermione squinted through the heavy undergrowth, then her jaw dropped. "Oh, Merlin's beard," she muttered.

"Hermione? Translation, please?" said Ron's shaky voice behind Harry.

"Er…well, you were partly right, Ron," Hermione said. "In fact, you were…one-third right."

_"What!"_

A blast of fire set some tree branches ablaze, but Hermione threw a dousing spell at it while hastily backing up. Out of the trees on a heavy chain leash led by Hagrid came one of the strangest, most intimidating-looking creatures Harry had ever seen. At first, he couldn't see what Hermione was referring to. Although it did breathe fire, it looked nothing like a dragon. In fact, its head was that of a lion. Its forelegs and middle body, down to the front hooves, were like a…a deer's? A goat's? And its hindquarters and tail…oh, that was what Hermione had meant.

Its rear end was most definitely that of a dragon.

"Stand back there, stand back!" Hagrid warned, pulling hard on the leash as the creature made to prowl around the clearing they were in. The students did not need to be told twice. "Now. Anyone care to guess what this is?"

No one raised their hand. Merely a class full of horrified, open-mouthed gazes stared back at Hagrid. " _You_ don't even know!" Ron hissed to Hermione in astonishment.

"Oh, I know," Hermione murmured, leaning away from the thing. "I'm just hoping I'll wake up."

"Oh, come on, Hermione, of all people, yeh oughtta know!" said Hagrid.

Swallowing convulsively, Hermione spoke very softly as if trying to keep from attracting the creature's attention. "It's a Chimaera."

"A what!" exclaimed half the class.

"Speak up, there, Hermione!"

"A _Chimaera_!" she repeated louder, and everyone flinched as the creature turned its lion's head toward them.

"Right yeh are, Hermione. Spectacular, isn't she?" Hagrid nodded at the Chimaera with obvious appreciation. "Devilish hard to get eggs, but I got lucky at last with this beauty! Already grown, but needed a home."

"I won't ask what happened to her previous home," said Hermione faintly.

Hagrid wrapped the chain around a tree and tossed the Chimaera a whole dead sheep, which he'd been carrying over his shoulder. Harry had been thinking that a body like that must make it awkward for the Chimaera to move fast—but watching it leap upon the carcass and tear the thing to shreds in seconds, he realized he was mistaken. "So, Hagrid," said Parvati, trying not to look at it. "What exactly are we going to learn to do with this thing?"

"Same thing I just showed yeh—to keep it, feed it, move it—without getting' yerselves killed!" Hagrid looked very pleased with himself, and their horrified reactions. "Count yerselves lucky. I hear Lord You-Know-Who's got himself a cockatrice." Hermione let out a squeak of dismay. "Coulda found meself one o' them, with a little work, but the Chimaera's more readily available."

"Hope you mean relatively-speaking," Harry said.

"Well, yeh. Now. Hermione. Care ter assist me with a short demonstration?" Hermione's jaw dropped and she looked frantically at the rest of the class. "Sorry, woulda picked someone else, but yer the only one who knew what she was."

Predictably, curiosity got the better of Hermione. "How do you know it's a she? The lion's head has a mane."

"Good thinkin', five points ter Gryffindor!" said Hagrid, and the Gryffindors exchanged gleeful glances. Perhaps this wouldn't be such a nightmare after all. "All Chimaeras have a mane, but yeh can tell females from males by their tails. Same as dragons—females have a barbed tail fer fightin' enemies away from their nests. Come on, now, Hermione, don't be shy."

"W-what do I do?"

"Jes' come 'ere, I won' let 'er hurt yeh! Now. I guess yeh know the legend?"

"Bellerophon? Yes. He attacked the Chimaera with Pegasus and killed it."

"Right. But what the legends don't always tell is Chimaeras got a blind spot. They can't look directly behind 'emselves 'cause of their goat shoulders." Hagrid beckoned Hermione closer. "Now this one knows me, so she's gonna want ter keep 'er eyes on you. All yeh've gotta do is keep directly behind 'er."

Hermione was eyeing the barbed tail. "What about that?"

"'Nother good question. Gotta keep outta the tail's range. Don' worry." Hagrid said, untying the chain from the tree. "I'll keep a good grip on 'er. Ready?"

"Er…"

"Right! Behind 'er now!" Hagrid trotted the growling, protesting Chimaera into the clearing; Harry and the others scurried to what they hoped was a safe distance.

The Chimaera, as Hagrid had predicted, immediately set her eyes on Hermione, who scampered directly behind the creature. "Careful!" Ron yelled as the Chimaera went berserk, pulling against Hagrid's leash and trying to look over her shoulders to see where the stranger was.

Hermione's eyes were wide as saucers, but she kept her wits—as Harry and Ron knew she would—and by the dint of much scrambling, managed to stay in the Chimaera's blind spot. On the other hand, that made the Chimaera more agitated, and Hermione was sweaty-faced and panting by the time Hagrid called a halt.

"Well done, Hermione, well done! Ten points fer Gryffindor!" he said as he tied the Chimaera back up again.

Malfoy muttered something about "bias," but Harry ignored him. Watching Hermione's little Chimaera dance had made him dizzy. He patted her shoulder as she rejoined the class, keeping his other hand on the tree next to him. The rest of the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs were applauding enthusiastically as Hagrid led the Chimaera away.

"What's her name, Hagrid?" asked Neville when he returned.

"I don' rightly know, Neville," said Hagrid. "Only got 'er last night. Any ideas?"

"Hellfire!" suggested Dean.

"Hera!"

"Brunhilda!"

"Fluffy!"

"Already got a Fluffy, sorry, Seamus," said Hagrid. "Fer homework, everyone's ter write down the proper way to approach a Chimaera—not just avoid 'er like Hermione, but to approach—an' suggest a name! Best one gets twenty House points!"

"He's getting good at this," whispered Ron.

As Hagrid dismissed the class, he noticed Harry leaning heavily against the tree. "Be along with yeh, Malfoy! And yer friends! Shoo! All right there, Harry?" he asked, coming toward him.

Harry wished he could manage to stand up straight, but every time he tried to move away from the tree, he swayed in the other direction. "Just a little light-headed."

"Hmm. Why don' yeh come sit down fer a bit before headin' back. It's a bit warm out here," said Hagrid, offering a supporting hand.

Harry felt rather cross, wishing Ron and Hermione weren't hovering over him as if he might shatter like glass, but admitted to himself he wouldn't get far on his own. He heaved a sigh, getting a swat from Hermione, and said, "Thanks," and let Hagrid lead them to his cabin.

The walk tired him. A lot. By the time they went up the steps and inside, Harry was shaking slightly with weariness. "Harry, you don't look well at all," said Hermione quietly as Hagrid ushered him over to what probably served the half-giant as a loveseat, but for Harry was more than long enough to lie down on.

"Don't feel so well," he admitted, and dropped his head onto the arm of the small sofa, pulling up his feet.

Hagrid was watching him with an uncharacteristically solemn expression as he brought over a glass of water. Harry sipped it gratefully. "Think maybe I should call Madam Pomfrey, Harry. Yeh may 'ave overdone it today."

"No," Harry said quickly, gulping another mouthful of water. "Really, Hagrid, Hermione, I'll be fine. I just need to lie down for a minute."

Ron was standing by the door, biting his lip, but suddenly glanced at the window and yelled, "Hey! Malfoy!"

"Oh, fer the love of…" Hagrid stalked to the door. "I told the three o' yeh ter get back! Ten points from Slytherin! Go on, off with yeh!" That was enough to give Harry, Ron, and Hermione a brief pause; even when Malfoy's lot were at their worst, Hagrid seldom dealt out real discipline.

Ron was helping Harry out of his robe, and Hermione methodically removing his House tie and loosening his shirt collar when Hagrid came back with a damp cloth. "Just about had my fill o' that lot," he growled at them. "After what that Lucius character did ter Harry…" he shook his head and began bathing the sweat off Harry's face. Harry's ill mood was rapidly draining away—along with most of his interest in what was happening. He was simply too tired. "I can sit with him if the two o' yeh need ter get back fer anythin'," Hagrid told Ron and Hermione as Harry laid his head on the sofa cushions.

"Is it all right if we stay?" asked Ron immediately.

Hagrid grinned at them. "Sure, it is. Pull up a chair. You go on an' sleep, Harry. Yeh need it."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry mumbled, and let his eyes drift closed.

* * *

 

"Harry? Can yeh hear me? Can yeh open yer eyes?" A worried, vaguely-familiar voice penetrated Harry's dark dreams, dragging him unwillingly out of an incredibly deep, heavy sleep. The place he was waking up to was not nearly so pleasant; he felt cold, damp, and weak. Shivering, he tried to sink back into the darkness. "Blimey," muttered the voice. "I can't wake him."

"Let me see, Hagrid," said another voice, and a cool hand touched Harry's forehead.

"He feels warm ter me."

"He's burning up. We need to get him to the hospital wing right now."

"Madam Pomfrey's going to _kill_ him! Go ahead and say you told us so, Hermione."

"Oh, shut it, Ron! I've no intention of saying any such thing!"

"Enough o' that, you two! I gotta fetch Madam Pomfrey. Yeh'll stay with him?"

"Of course. Hurry, Hagrid."

"Righ'. I'll be back!"

Harry's whole body was achy and weak. He badly wanted to go back to sleep, but the voices refused to be quiet, and now someone was sponging his face with a wet cloth. "Come on, Harry, open your eyes!"

This reminded him of something, but he couldn't think what. All he knew was it scared him. "No…" he moaned and flinched away. He didn't want anything strange-tasting in his mouth. He remembered that, and that he didn't want it.

"Shh, it's okay, Harry. Everything will be okay. Ron, fetch his cloak. He's shivering."

"Is that a good idea with him so hot?"

A warm layer of dry cloth was laid over Harry, but he still shivered. "I don't know if it's helping. Ohhh…why couldn't Snape have got him out sooner!"

"Never heard you talk about a teacher like that. You were the one telling Harry—"

"I know, I know. It's just…right now…seeing him like this…I'm mad at Snape for not rescuing him sooner, at the Aurors for not stopping him from getting kidnapped, at Sirius for dying right when—"

The sound of that one name reached through the fog of fever like a bright, hot light that burned Harry, and he flinched. "Oh! Harry, Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't know you…Harry?"

"I think it was just hearing the name. He doesn't seem to know us."

A hand stroked back his sweat-soaked hair. A very quiet voice murmured, "And I'm angriest of all at Dumbledore for letting all this happen in the first place."

"Blimey. I've never heard you talk like that before."

"Now you have. I'm angry at everyone. He shouldn't have to go through this, Ron. It's not fair. Aren't you angry?"

There was a long silence.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am. But I'm angry at me."

"You?"

"Yeah. For not doing more. I feel like I haven't done him any good."

"Oh, Ron—"

There was a loud _thunk_ then more voices came into the room. "Oh, _honestly,_ Mr. Potter, I am _never_ letting you out of my sight again!"

Harry cringed; the voice reminded him of someone, and the memory definitely wasn't pleasant, but one of the first voices said, "Madam Pomfrey, please, he's del—"

A hand touched his forehead again, then his cheeks and neck. "Calm down, Miss Granger, I won't eat him. He needs to be brought back to the hospital wing immediately."

"'Ere, I'll carry him."

The next thing Harry knew, he was being swept into a pair of huge, burly arms and cradled against a massive chest. He moaned and struggled weakly. "It's okay, Harry! It's just Hagrid. Let him take you."

For a few moments, Harry fought the arms holding him; he couldn't distinguish that moment from yet another distressing memory. But once the strength to struggle left him, it reached his groggy, confused mind that this situation was different. He was being moved gently, not bounced and wrenched like before, rather like floating this time on the supporting arms. And they were holding him close, gently, so that he didn't fear he would fall. "It's all right, Harry. I've got yeh. Just relax."

So he did, with his head propped upon a big shoulder with a bushy beard tickling his face, and slept again.


	6. By Your Side, At Your Back

"Is there any chance something else could have been done to him, Severus?" The words penetrated the darkness, slowly drawing Harry up as though he were swimming to the surface of a very deep lake.

"What are his symptoms?"

"High fever—it took two potions to bring it down this far. Confusion, delirium, and muscle pain. He's been incoherent for over a day."

"His scar's hurting him too, Professor."

"Granger, Weasley, move. And why aren't you in class?" There was a shuffling near Harry, the sense that someone was bending over him, but he couldn't find the strength to open his eyes.

"It's full moon tomorrow, sir. Professor Lupin assigned a library project."

A hand landed on Harry's forehead, then moved to feel around his neck. "Then why aren't you in the library?"

"We'll have it done, sir. No need to concern yourself for Professor Lupin's class."

"Miss Granger, I—"

"—What do you think, Severus?"

There was a long silence as Harry struggled to figure out where he was. These voices, this place, they were so familiar. And then, "At first glance, it seems merely a side effect of being revived from the Draught of Living Death too quickly. But he should have responded better to your treatments."

"Then what can we do?"

"I've no idea, Professor McGonagall, as I am no longer privy to the Dark Lord's plans."

That sarcastic remark finally triggered Harry's faulty memory, and he groaned. "Harry! He's awake! Harry!"

"For God's sake, Weasley, contain yourself. Now, if there's nothing else…"

"So you can't think of any other problem we might be able to treat? A poison or a curse You-Know-Who might have used?"

"As I said, Madam Pomfrey, I no longer have access to that information."

Heels thunked on the floor as Harry forced his eyes open. Ron and Hermione were on either side of the bed, watching the exchange intently, and Professor McGonagall was catching Professor Snape by the shoulder. "An educated guess, then, Severus?"

Snape sighed heavily, then saw Harry looking at him and scowled. "The Dark Lord implied that the green flame torch would bind the boy to him in a new way, using their blood. It may have allowed him to either curse or poison Potter somehow from a distance. You might speak to the Headmaster."

Professor McGonagall looked over her shoulder and saw Harry awake. "Thank you, Severus." Snape left in a hurry.

"Harry," Ron waved a hand slowly in front of Harry's face. "You know us, mate?"

"Yeah," Harry croaked weakly. "How long…out?"

"You got sick after class Monday afternoon and now it's Tuesday night," said Ron, sitting on the edge of the bed. He leaned toward Harry, "I thought Madam Pomfrey was going to strangle you!"

"And you're not out of the woods yet, Mr. Potter, from this illness or from me!" snapped Madam Pomfrey, stalking over to the bed. Harry cringed as she thrust a beaker of potion at him. "Drink it all. This time, you will leave when I am satisfied that you're well—not before."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry muttered and swallowed the fever-reducing potion. Ron and Hermione elbowed each other and grinned. "What?"

"She told Professor McGonagall she's putting a memorial plaque over this bed after your seventh year," Hermione giggled. "And Professor McGonagall said maybe they should just move you in here permanently."

They both sounded a little hysterical, so Harry chuckled along with them. "Not off to a very good start this year, am I?" Ron and Hermione shook their heads at him. "What classes did I miss?"

"Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Curse Defense," said Ron. "Hermione's copying all her notes for you. Figured you wouldn't want mine."

"What's wrong with yours?" asked Harry innocently. He wiped his sweaty face on the back of his hand. "I don't know why I feel cold," he muttered.

"You're still feverish," said Hermione. "Harry, by the way, the Daily Prophet is going mad. They were jumping to get at you when you first got back, then when word got out that you were sick…I'm not even sure how long I can hold Rita Skeeter down."

"Oh, bloody hell, that's all we need," Harry groaned.

Ron pulled a face. "It gets worse. Fudge and about half the wizards at the Ministry are hopping to see you too."

Harry rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. "Never mind, in that case bring on Rita Skeeter."

"We thought you'd think so," sighed Hermione. "But Professor Dumbledore said we may have to talk to them. Otherwise they'll start reporting you're on your deathbed or something."

Harry groaned louder. "When?"

"When you're feeling better, I assume."

"Any chance I can feel bad the rest of my life?"

"You're well on your way to that already, Potter—lie down!" barked Madam Pomfrey, coming back over with another potion and propping more pillows under him. "Drink all of this. It's a restorative. You're skin and bones; what did you do to yourself?"

Harry blinked at her as Professor McGonagall came back. "I was asleep for two months!"

Madam Pomfrey took the cup back and stalked off, tutting. "Try again. The Draught of Living Death has no effect on the body. You lost all that weight before you were kidnapped."

Professor McGonagall stopped in her tracks. Ron and Hermione stared at Harry. He looked at his hands and muttered, "Didn't have much appetite after…"

His friends winced, and each put a hand on his shoulder. Professor McGonagall came to the bedside and pulled up a chair. Harry looked awkwardly at the wall. "Mr. Potter," she said quietly. "I know how painful these last months have been for you. These last years," she corrected herself. Harry stared hard at the bedcovers. "But you must realize how essential it is, now more than ever, that none of us allows our resolve to be broken—you, least of all."

Harry looked up in surprise. He'd caught the meaning in her last words, even if Ron and Hermione hadn't. He swallowed thickly. "I…I didn't realize you knew."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Professor Dumbledore made certain of it, in case anything should ever happen to him." Ron made an odd noise, clearly startled by that thought. "But I am the only one he has ever told, apart from you."

"What about Snape?" Harry asked, ignoring the baffled looks from his friends.

"Professor Snape, Potter, and no, he has not been told, although after the charade that he took part in with You-Know-Who, he may well have guessed it."

Relief made Harry's stomach churn, and he sank bank into the pillow for several moments. On one hand, he was immensely glad that Snape didn't know the prophecy, though he couldn't say precisely why. And on the other hand, realizing that Professor McGonagall knew made him feel a little less alone in the world.

"Harry? Harry, are you all right?" asked Hermione.

He opened his eyes and muttered, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm all right. But I've…" he looked at Professor McGonagall. "There's something I—I have to tell you…"

Professor McGonagall looked from Ron and Hermione to Harry. "I will not prevent you from speaking to your friends, Potter. But you must be aware of the very great danger to anyone in whose hands you place that information."

Slowly, Harry nodded, and Professor McGonagall reached out and gave his hand a little squeeze, then rose and left the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had gone to her office, and the door swung closed with an echoing thump.

Ron and Hermione were staring. "What information, Harry?" Hermione asked.

He swallowed again and pulled himself up a little on the bed. Both of them scooted closer. "You can tell us," said Ron. "We don't care how dangerous it is."

"Professor McGonagall's right," Harry warned. "Voldemort would come after both of you if he found out you knew. He'd kill you. Or your families."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other. Then Ron lifted his chin. "You're part of my family, mate. My parents'll do anything to help you. So will I."

As Harry quickly looked away, Hermione added, "And my parents are Muggles. They may not really understand all this, but they and I are targets already. And I choose you." She lightly ruffled his hair as he looked down at the bedcovers again. "So whatever it is, we'll help all we can."

Harry rolled onto his side and rested his head on his arm, facing Ron. The mattress squeaked as Hermione sat down on the other side behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Tell us, mate," said Ron softly.

Harry swallowed hard. "It's the prophecy," he gasped out. "Dumbledore told me what is said, right after we got back from the Department of Mysteries." Hermione's grip on his shoulder tightened, and Ron scooted his chair closer. "It says…I'm the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. That he'd mark me as his equal." He touched the scar on his forehead. "And…either I have to kill Voldemort…or he'll kill me. 'Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives.'"

The hospital wing was quiet for a long time. Harry closed his eyes, hearing nothing but slightly hitched breaths. Then Hermione bent over and put her head against his shoulder, pulling him into a lopsided hug, and Ron leaned over to put his arms around both her and Harry. Neither of them said a word, but Harry didn't mind—after all, what could be said? And what could be done? This was nothing Ron and Hermione could help with. Harry would kill, or Harry would die. It was as simple—as hideously simple—as that.

When Madam Pomfrey came in around ten o'clock, she found the three of them still like that, and turned around and left them alone. Harry had no idea when she finally insisted that Ron and Hermione go to bed, because they were still with him when he fell asleep.

For his "complete lack of sense in trying to do to much too soon" Harry was sentenced to the rest of the week in the hospital wing. It wasn't so bad; Ron and Hermione came every day with his class notes, and Madam Pomfrey even allowed them to have dinner with Harry. Many of their other friends stopped by regularly as well to tell Harry about how classes were going, talk about the news (most of it grim) in the Daily Prophet, and bring him sweets.

The Weasley twins sent a box of experimental Wheezes via Ron and Ginny (which Madam Pomfrey forbade opening in the hospital wing) and a note promising they'd be round to visit on Sunday with Bill, Charlie, and their parents. And, of course, there was a steady stream of visitors from the D.A., all wanting to know if they'd still be working together this year.

As frustrating as it was to be missing his first week of school, Harry had to admit he wasn't in much of a state for any activity. His fever didn't go up again, but it also didn't break until Friday afternoon, which left him bedridden all week long. On Wednesday, Harry and Ron were playing chess in the hospital wing when Hermione got back from Potions. "How bad is it?" Ron asked, seeing her scowl all the way across the hospital wing when she came in.

"Insufferable!" Hermione huffed, flinging herself into the chair next to Harry's bed. "That man is like a Dementor, sucking the happiness out of people! We're at war; one would think he could be a little decent to us!"

"That'd mean he'd have to have a heart," said Ron.

Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "After what happened this summer…the things he did…I really thought he'd be…different. I mean, not necessarily nice, but at least…somewhat decent."

"What did he do?" Harry asked.

She made a face at him. "Well, first he told us that we were in class because we'd all made an 'O' on our Potions O.W.L.s, then he looked right at me and informed us that our past marks meant absolutely nothing."

Ron snorted. "Figures."

"And, in addition to our regular assignments, we're also going to be getting 'Special Defense,' where we'll be learning certain types of potions that the Ministry and Professor Dumbledore think might be useful to us in the war," Hermione went on. "He also said that anyone who doesn't get good marks on those lessons will be restricted to campus and have other privileges revoked for their own personal safety." She glowered. "You should have seen his face then."

"Gleeful?"

"Elated. Probably because that's the closest to teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts he'll ever get," said Hermione. She looked thoughtfully at Harry. "He had a few choices remarks for me, but he didn't mention you at all. I'd wondered if he would, since everyone knows he rescued you from Voldemort."

Ron leaned toward her. "Is it true the Slytherins are rebelling?"

"I imagine some of them are. Malfoy, almost certainly—what, Harry?"

Harry's memory of the escape from Voldemort's lair was sketchy at best, but the mention of Malfoy had brought part of it rushing back so fast it made him gasp. Ron and Hermione jumped. "What's the matter?" Ron exclaimed.

With an effort, Harry got his breathing under control. "Just…something I remembered. About Lucius Malfoy and Snape, the night he got me out."

"What happened?" Hermione breathed.

"Voldemort…he knew somehow, as soon as Snape woke me. They got back before we could escape, and Snape fought Lucius Malfoy. He used the Imperius Curse on him. It worked. I think that's how we made it." Harry's heart was pounding just from remembering it.

Ron, sitting Indian-style on the foot of Harry's bed, propped his elbow on his knee and rested his chin in his hand. "Was Voldemort there too?"

Harry frowned. "He might have been. I remember hearing him, but not when it was. Might have been the night they took me. Why?"

His chin still in his hand, Ron shook his head. "I wonder if any of us will ever understand Snape."

"That may not be humanly possible," muttered Hermione.

On Saturday, Professor Dumbledore went off to Headquarters for a meeting with the Order members who were Aurors, and Professor Lupin—convinced that Voldemort's people would choose this moment to attack Hogwarts—spent nearly the whole morning in the hospital wing with them. Ostensibly it was to give Harry a little tutoring to prevent him from falling behind in any of his assorted Defense classes, and to their credit, they did get quite a bit of real work done. But in other ways, Lupin's visit that morning was the best one Harry got, because somewhere in between watching Ron and Hermione demonstrating curse blocks and listening to stories about some of his father's more memorable Marauder antics, Harry felt the burning, throbbing hole inside him beginning to heal a little, as if the agony of Sirius's absence was eased by the presence of the last living member of that group of old friends.

Throughout the morning, a number of Harry's friends stopped by, and many stayed, especially members of the D.A. Madam Pomfrey was amazingly tolerant of their noisy presence—probably because Harry was the only one who'd managed to land in the hospital wing so early in the term.

And so it was that Harry, Ron, Hermione, Professor Lupin, Neville, Ginny, Luna Lovegood, Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Parvati and Padma Patil, Cho Chang, Terry Boot, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Ernie MacMillian all wound up in the hospital wing eating a sumptuous "picnic" lunch provided enthusiastically by the house elves when Professor McGonagall arrived—in a hurry, looking most agitated.

The Gryffindor Head of House clapped her hands loudly. "May I have everyone's attention, please?" she called, a little breathlessly.

The cheerful chatter died down. "Bloody hell, I knew it was too good to last," muttered Ron. Harry braced himself.

Professor Lupin got up. "Problem, Minerva?"

"Not exactly, Remus," said Professor McGonagall dryly, and to a confirming groan from the students, her eyes sought out Harry in the group. "Mr. Potter has some rather distinguished visitors who insist on seeing him now."

"Oh no," Harry groaned, closing his eyes.

Professor McGonagall smiled in understanding. "I'm afraid so, Potter. And he has several reporters from the Daily Prophet with him." Harry dropped his forehead onto his knees. "I'll give you a few minutes to make yourself presentable, then I will bring them in. As for your classmates," she added, looking at the D.A. thoughtfully, "I see no reason why they may not stay."

As she went back out the doors, Harry muttered a rude word and shook out the wrinkles in his robes, accepting a hand up from Lupin. "Five galleons says one of them's that Skeeter female," growled Ginny.

"I'm not taking that wager," Harry replied.

The doors flew open with a loud bang, and with yelps of surprise and annoyance, everyone sprang away. But it was Peeves who came sweeping through the door. "She's back! She's back! Who let her back in! Was it you, Potty? Always causing trouble, only for you would she come back! Leave you to her!" He swept out again.

Harry and his friends exchanged baffled looks. "What's Peeves got against Rita Skeeter?" wondered Hermione.

"I don't remember anything from the Triwizard Tournament," mused Ron.

Harry shrugged helplessly, but then Ginny's hands went slowly to her face. "Oh…bloody…hell. He didn't mean Rita Skeeter."

"Huh? What do you…" It dawned on Harry in a rush of sheer outrage that made him start to tremble. "They wouldn't. They would not. They wouldn't dare bring her here again!"

"No…" growled Hermione.

Neville, by that time, had run to the doors and was peeking out. His jaw dropped in combined horror and indignation, and he looked over at them. "It is!"

"I don't believe it," was all Harry had time to say before the doors opened again to admit Professor McGonagall (wearing a distinctly sour expression), trailed by Cornelius Fudge, Rita Skeeter, her photographer, and another Daily Prophet reporter, and without doubt the most hated D.A.D.A. Professor in all Hogwarts history.

Dolores Umbridge, it seemed, did have some good sense, or at least she would have to have been deaf and blind not to sense the ire directed toward her from every single person in the room. But her presence, trailing behind Fudge and in front of none other than Percy Weasley, was simply too much to be borne.

Fudge, for his part, did appear completely oblivious, and strode pompously toward Harry with his arms open. "My dear boy, it's such a relief to see you recovered at last. We've lots to talk about!"

It gave Harry the perfect opportunity. Stepping back from the Minister of Magic's offered handshake, he said coldly, "Not with her in the room."

Percy and the reporters gasped, Umbridge's toadlike face sagged, and Fudge blinked, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Er…I don't understand…"

From behind the others, Professor McGonagall made a little motion with her hand at Harry, clearly indicating for him to remain calm, so he took a deep breath, and said in a steady voice, "I would be happy to talk to you, Minister, but not to the person who deliberately sabotaged our Defense Against the Dark Arts Classes, spied on us, and tried to control our every thought."

For the first time in his life, he was pleased to see Rita Skeeter scribbling away like mad. It distracted him from fantasizing about wrapping his hands around Umbridge's neck and shaking vigorously.

"Oh, and don't forget, Harry," said Hermione's voice lightly from behind him, "the little matter of the blatant abuse of the students under her care, particularly yourself!"

Fudge's jaw dropped, and Rita actually stopped writing. Percy had appeared at the Minister's shoulder, and they exchanged glances before looking back at Umbridge, who was slowly retreating toward the door. "Er…what abuses are you referring to, Miss…"

"Hermione Granger, Minister," she said, extending her hand with great decorum. As he shook it, she remarked, "Harry, perhaps you should give the Minister your hand after all." She looked meaningfully at him. "The right hand."

Ah. Harry nodded and stepped toward them, and Hermione beckoned Rita forward, pointing discreetly at the photographer. Harry held out his hand slowly, then took great pleasure in slowly turning it over to reveal the white scarring on the skin, still spelling out clearly, I must not tell lies.

Fudge and Percy both gasped, and Rita's photographer's camera began clicking away. "She…she…Professor Umbridge did that?" breathed Percy.

Harry nodded.

"Monstrous," murmured the other reporter as he and Rita resumed scribbling.

"Harry got that punishment for telling people that Lord Voldemort had returned," said Ginny. "Many times throughout the school year. Of course, he wasn't telling lies, was he, Minister?"

"Er…"

"Umbridge also gave Caretaker Filch permission to whip students—my brothers had to flee the school." Ginny was speaking directly to two reporters while Fudge dithered. Professor McGonagall stood off to one side, giving a helpless little shrug every time Umbridge or Fudge looked in her direction. "And she confessed to sending the two Dementors to Little Whinging that nearly kissed Harry's cousin and forced him to do a Patronus in front of Muggles—the same Patronus he nearly got expelled for."

The rest of Harry's friends were pushing forward. "She opened our mail!"

"She sabotaged other teachers!"

"She got students to spy on each other!"

"She tried to Crucio Harry!"

"She should never be allowed in here again!"

Umbridge, who had begun to resemble a sheep who'd walked into a pack of wolves, began to venture forward. "Minister, Minister, this is all just a misunderstanding…" she simpered, raising a placating hand toward Harry.

"Harder to misunderstand a Killing Curse," said someone.

Harry stepped quickly backwards; his friends crowded around him. "Keep away from me."

"Professor McGonagall," said Rita. "Why was nothing done by the other Hogwarts teachers to stop these abuses?"

"You will find," said Professor McGonagall quietly, "that the Educational Decrees passed by the Ministry gave Madam Umbridge unlimited power to dictate school policy as she saw fit, and prevented any other members of the Hogwarts staff from interfering, on threat of immediate dismissal."

"Well…er…we never imagined those Decrees would be abused…" Fudge whined, wringing his hands. He had turned an impressive shade of purple, his eyes darting accusingly from Umbridge to Harry as if neither had the right to embarrass him this way. In desperation, he finally blurted, "In any case, we…these allegations will be investigated fully…terrible thought, abuse of students…Madam Umbridge, I think you'd better go on back to the Ministry!" he added as Umbridge started to protest again. The toad-faced woman blinked stupidly as Fudge motioned vigorously at the door. Finally, she went.

More than one student in the room sighed in relief, then they all had to stifle giggles when they heard Peeves swooping down, shrieking like a banshee, and Umbridge's frantic sprinting for the exit. "If I never see that creature again, it will be too soon," growled Hermione.

With Umbridge gone, Harry felt the knot in his insides loosen ever so slightly. Fudge, still wringing his hands, turned back to him, in a far less congenial manner. "Now…er, we do need to speak with you, Mr. Potter, about You-Know-Who. For the war effort and all."

Harry shrugged. "Mind if I sit down?" Just talking about Umbridge had left him frustratingly tired.

Madam Pomfrey summoned several chairs, and Harry and Fudge sat, with the reporters eagerly on either side of them, and Percy standing beside Fudge's chair. "Well…I…glad to see you're recovering," said Fudge, his tone rather forced.

"Thanks." Harry replied, contemplating his knees. Then someone hissed, and he looked over to see Rita's Quick Quotes Quill writing, His haunted green eyes seldom look up as he shivers from the lingering trauma of… "I am not shivering!"

"Calm down, Harry dear," Rita cooed, "it's just a bit of creative—"

"Oh, Miss Skeeter, I think Harry has had enough of your 'creativity' to deal with, don't you?" asked Hermione. Her voice was cloying, but her eyes were hard. Rita scowled and flicked the quill so it scratched out the worst embellishments.

Fudge cleared his throat. "Well. Now, Mr. Potter, what can you tell me about this stronghold you were taken to?"

Harry's irritation gave way to a surge of nausea, but he managed to keep his voice steady as he replied, "Not much. It was all underground, but very big. There were lots of tunnels and a big chamber where Voldemort—" Fudge and his entourage flinched, "—and the Death Eaters all assembled." Harry wasn't shivering, but by the time he finished describing Voldemort's lair and activities as best he could remember, nearly everyone else was. Professor Lupin's hand on Harry's shoulder made it easier to tell, though it reminded him of the night of the Third Task, and Harry felt a pang of guilt for wishing he would turn around and see someone else sitting behind him.

When he'd finished his account, Fudge and Percy exchanged glances. "So there's nothing else? Nothing useful?"

"What'd you expect, that I'd get a grand tour?" Harry demanded hotly. "I don't think the Death Eaters intended me to learn anything 'useful' about their hideout. And I was a little distracted—by the Cruciatus Curse, among other things." He took vindictive satisfaction in seeing them flinch again.

"No offense intended," Fudge muttered, turning red.

Rita chose that moment to stir things up. Her eyes had been fixed on Lupin—and his hand on Harry's shoulder—for the last few moments of Harry's account of his imprisonment, and her writing had slowed down.

Finally, she evidently couldn't restrain herself a moment longer. "So what is it like being taught Defense Against the Dark Arts by a dark creature, Harry?"

She undoubtedly intended to get a rise out of Harry. However, what she obviously did not expect was the outraged reaction of every student in the room. So it happened that when Harry shot to his feet and began shouting, so did all the others. "He is not a dark creature!" Harry roared. "You—" the various names he called Rita were fortunately drowned out by the shouts of his classmates.

"You take that back, lady!" Seamus cried.

"Don't you talk about Professor Lupin like that!" Neville shouted.

"He's the best Defense Professor we've ever had!"

"Why you low-down, dirty, slandering—"

"Lupin's a sight more human than you are!"

Professor Lupin was as startled as Rita by the mass tirade, but eventually he stood up and shouted over the furious denials, insults, and threats, "All right! That's enough of that! All of you, sit down and calm down!" Harry quieted along with the others, still seething, as Lupin politely addressed Rita. "Miss Skeeter, would you rather I left?"

"Ah…" Rita glanced apprehensively at the furious faces and muttered, "No, that's all right, Mr. Lupin."

"Professor Lupin, if you please," said Hermione, glaring daggers at Rita.

Harry slowly sat down again. "Professor Lupin is the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher any of us have ever had. And he's never put any of us in danger," he informed Rita curtly.

Keeping her eyes on her parchment, Rita said, "There was a rumor that he…gotlooseduringhislasttenure."

"That…was different," said Harry, looking quickly at Hermione and wondering what to say.

Professor Lupin said smoothly, "That was a regrettable incident, Miss Skeeter. Like most people with Lycanthropy, I use Wolfsbane Potion to control the transformation, but the accident occurred the night Sirius Black was almost apprehended. Harry and his friends went missing, and out of concern for their safety I went outside searching for them and forgot the potion."

"Hm," was all Rita said, and she went on writing. Harry was relieved that everyone was too focused on Lupin to see his face just then.

Fudge cleared his throat. "Never got a chance to ask you before…eyewitnesses say Sirius Black was with the Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries last spring. Did you see him by any chance?"

"I say, are you all right!" exclaimed the other reporter.

Harry's vision had tunneled, and his heartbeat was thundering in his ears. "Fine," he muttered, bending forward and resting his head in his hands.

Over the concerned whispers of his friends, he heard Madam Pomfrey say, "Just some lingering effect of the Draught of Living Death, Minister. He'll be better in time."

"How soon is he to be released?"

"Probably tomorrow, provided he doesn't overexert himself," Madam Pomfrey growled, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at Harry.

Ron reached out and ruffled Harry's hair. "Most of the Death Eaters at the Ministry that night had masks, sir. And it was rather chaotic." Harry shot him a grateful glance, and Ron glared at Rita, who was watching them a little too closely.

"Mm." Fudge didn't look entirely satisfied, but he slowly stood up. "Well…questions needed to be asked, you understand." Harry nodded. "I'll, er, be in touch. And I trust Headmaster Dumbledore will notify me if there are any…developments?" he asked Professor McGonagall.

Harry and Ron rolled their eyes at each other. For all he'd been forced to admit Harry and Dumbledore were right, Fudge obviously was still nursing a grudge against the Hogwarts Headmaster. As the Minister shuffled out with Percy and the reporters, Harry turned to his friends and the D.A. members. "Thanks."

"For what?" asked Ernie MacMillian.

"For…you know…sticking by me—us," said Harry awkwardly, indicating himself, Professor Lupin, and the others.

Ron folded his arms and grinned at the rest of them. "It's not just you old Voldemort's got to deal with anymore, Harry. We're all in this together."


	7. Good Guys and Bad Guys

After being on his best behavior for the rest of Saturday, Madam Pomfrey let Harry return to Gryffindor Tower on Sunday. But Sunday was spent frantically working making up homework and listening to the previous week's lectures almost word-for-word from Hermione. Predictably, the _Sunday Prophet_ came out with an article about Harry's experience in Voldemort's hands, with a screaming banner headline:

**_Boy-Who-Lived Recounts Horror of Torture, Imprisonment in Headquarters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!_ **

As melodramatic as it sounded at first glance, the article, written by Rita Skeeter, was mostly accurate. But the part that caught Harry's eye was close to the end:

_Harry Potter made his report to the Minister surrounded by over a dozen supportive classmates, who repeatedly sprang to the defense of him and others. Flanking Potter from beginning to end were young Ronald Weasley, son of respected Ministry worker Arthur Weasley, and Muggle-born Hermione Granger. While questions persist about possible romantic involvement between Potter and Gryffindor Prefect Granger, both have repeatedly denied the rumors, but Granger and Weasley remain the closest and most devoted friends of the Boy-Who-Lived._

_This reporter has had it from multiple sources that the Weasley family has all but adopted the orphaned Potter. Ronald and his younger sister Ginevra Weasley remain young Potter's classmates and most outspoken supporters, and sources report that Fred and George Weasley, founders of burgeoning new joke business Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, received their startup funding from Harry Potter's winnings from the Triwizard Tournament. On the fateful night of the Third Task of the Tournament—now acknowledged by the Ministry as the most probable date of Lord You-Know-Who's return—the Weasleys were present as observers in support of the Boy-Who-Lived where the other champions were supported by their own families._

_No wizard can deny Harry Potter will need such friends in the coming dark days, and this reporter can only hope Harry Potter appreciates those who have stood by him through the thick and thin of the past few years._

"I do," Harry whispered to himself as Ron and Hermione were sitting on Ron's bed, arguing.

Ron glanced over and saw Harry looking at them. "What's Rita Skeeter have to say, mate?"

Harry held out the paper. "Something I'm actually glad to see, for once." He pointed to the end of the article. "People getting their due, and all."

Hermione came to join them as Ron sat down on Harry's bed to read the paper. Harry grinned as his jaw dropped. "They…they…talk about us!" Ron scanned the end of the article again. "All…all about us! We're… 'respected Ministry worker, Arthur Weasley,'" he read to himself softly, a smile of utter delight spreading slowly across his face.

The mattress creaked as Hermione reached swiftly across Harry to take the paper from Ron, burying her nose in it. Ron was still in shock, staring alternately at Harry and into space, as though he couldn't believe the _Daily Prophet_ would find him and his family important enough to devote a whole paragraph to.

Harry grabbed him and began knuckling his head, "And if Harry Potter had been asked, he would have told 'this reporter' that he's thankful every day of his life that he's got such terrific friends, and it's about bloody time 'this reporter' bothered to mention them!"

Hermione lowered the paper a moment later, but her face was far less enthusiastic. Ron shrugged at her, "What, Hermoninny, you got loads of mentions during the Triwizard Tournament—well, they weren't all good, but they did say you were pretty!"

"It doesn't really bother you, does it?" asked Harry when she didn't reply.

In a low voice, Hermione said, "Harry…Ron…I don't know if I like this."

Ron stopped dancing with Harry's dressing gown on the bed and looked hurt. "Why not? They say _good_ things about us! And Mum and Dad _have_ practically adopted Harry—they love him as much as—"

Hermione scooted over to him and grabbed his hand, pulling him down. "I know, I know. It's all very sweet, but that's not what scares me!" She looked from Ron to Harry then back to Ron again. "Don't you see, Ron? Don't you realize what this means?"

"It means they're being treated like the family they've treated me as all these years!" Harry said indignantly. "Don't spoil it!"

"I'm sorry!" she cried. "I really am, it's just…haven't you thought about it? I'm sure…well, pretty sure…that Rita Skeeter's just being her usual nosy self, but…Ron, don't you realize that the entire wizarding world now knows how close your family is to Harry? Can you imagine what Voldemort's followers could do with that information?"

Pride for Ron turned to ashes in Harry's mouth, and the color drained from Ron's face. They looked at each other in horror. "Harry…" Ron whispered.

Harry grabbed the article. "You…Ginny…your parents…Merlin's beard, the twins' joke shop! It tells everything!"

In anguish, Hermione held Ron's hand tighter. "People already probably knew about you being Harry's best friend, but now it's common knowledge about your whole family! And anything in there the Death Eaters could use to get to Harry!"

Ron wrenched away and jumped off the bed. "I've got to owl my dad," he said thickly. "And Fred and George. We need to warn them!"

"I've got a better idea," said Hermione, jumping up and running after him. "Let's talk to Professor McGonagall. She can get to them all a lot quicker through the Order. Come on, Harry!"

Harry didn't know why, but he had a horrible, sick feeling of dread churning inside that by the time they got to Professor McGonagall, word would already have arrived of some terrible attack on one of the Weasleys by Death Eaters. They frightened poor Professor McGonagall out of her wits when they burst into her office—she'd come to associate the sight of a frantically-running Harry with catastrophe. Once they babbled out their concerns, she ordered them all to sit down and went to dispatch a message to the Order.

The three of them waited in her office until she returned, holding seven letters in her hand. "I asked your parents and brothers to respond, Mr. Weasley, just to make certain all was well," she said, handing the notes to Ron. "Now, calm yourself. You are pale as a ghost. Have a biscuit." She held the tin out to him, but smiled sideways at Harry.

"Sorry, Professor," Ron mumbled as he nibbled on a piece of shortbread. "I guess I panicked a bit, when Hermione told us…"

"No apologies necessary, Miss Granger was very perceptive, and you were right to take this precaution," said Professor McGonagall, folding her hands in her lap. "Each member of your family outside of Hogwarts has been warned to take extra care of their safety, and the Order will keep close watch on them all."

Harry couldn't help thinking of the picture Mad-Eye Moody had shown him of the old Order and all the people who had died…obviously it hadn't been possible to keep close watch on them. But he wouldn't dream of telling Ron that. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"Whatever for?" demanded Professor McGonagall.

"For putting Ron's family in danger," said Harry.

"Rubbish," she snapped. "You are a child, Mr. Potter; a talented, resourceful child who has been through a great deal, but a child nonetheless. It is expected of your elders and caretakers to put themselves at risk on your behalf. To do otherwise would be unpardonable."

"But the Weasleys aren't—" Harry began, but Ron's hand on his shoulder cut him off.

"Yes, we are," Ron said quietly. "And either way, it's not your fault."

Hermione patted his other shoulder, and Harry sighed. "I still wish it didn't have to be like this for people I lo—for people close to me."

"As do we all, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "As do we all."

* * *

 

The week after the article appeared, to the intense relief of them all, passed without incident, although Monday brought a new, more pleasant shock for Ron in the form of several owl-loads of letters from _Daily Prophet_ readers. "Fan mail!" Ginny cried when the owls landed in front of her and Ron. "We've got fan mail!"

Harry got quite a few letters from well-wishers himself, but was far more interested in what people had to say to Ginny and Ron. Once the initial alarm had worn off, Ginny dismissed Harry and Hermione's worries that the references to the Weasleys might make them Voldemort's targets. "Maybe the general public didn't know how close you are to our family, Harry, but Voldemort's Death Eaters almost certainly did. It's not as if we've kept it a secret. No doubt they've been searching for ways to get to you for years, and if they haven't gone after us already, this article's not going to make them do it any sooner," she told him. "And even if they do, it's still not your fault."

"Tha's wha' I keep telling 'im!" Ron said, his mouth full of bacon. "Oy! Listen to this. 'Dear boy, you and your family are such angels, a true, shining example of kindness and charity to the wizarding world. Bless you for all you've done for the poor Boy-Who-Lived…' Blimey, they make you sound like a poor, crippled Squib, Harry!"

"Hey, this one sent flowers!" said Neville, shooing an owl toward them.

"Oh, how sweet!" Ginny exclaimed. "Snapdragons!" She took the card that came with them. "They say they would've sent Snapping Dragons but they're not owl-safe. Ron, can I take these?"

"Sure, put 'em in water by your bed—or…" Ron smiled. "We could send 'em on to Mum."

Ginny looked up from the card. "No need. They say they sent some to Mum and Dad too."

"Hey, Weasel! Any of your fans send money? Think they'd realize that's what your lot really needs?" yelled Malfoy from the Slytherin table.

Ginny shoved Ron back into his seat when he started to jump up and yelled, "At least we don't have to pay people to send _us_ flowers, Malfoy!"

Harry howled with laughter along with the rest of the Gryffindors (and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws,) and Ron looked a little less disgruntled. Seamus and Dean started off a round of "Weasley Is Our King" that crescendoed through the Great Hall for several verses until Hermione decided Ginny deserved some recognition and switched it to "Weasley Is Our Queen." Harry sang along gustily with one arm around Ron and the other around Ginny until he was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

* * *

 

Walking to Hagrid's for Care of Magical Creatures still took Harry a bit longer than the rest of the class. On the other hand, it provided him with a legitimate excuse _not_ to have to tussle with Daisy—which was the name Hagrid had finally bestowed upon his Chimaera.

(Ron had suggested Dolores, but Hagrid had replied, "No, Ron, if I ever get meself a Gorgon, _her_ I'll name Dolores!")

On Tuesday afternoon, Hagrid invited Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny to his cabin for tea. "'Bout time people gave yer family the praise they deserves, Ron, Ginny," said Hagrid, making room for them all to sit. "Mighty proud I was, readin' 'bout yeh in the _Prophet._ Done right by Harry, you have."

"And have to be in hiding for it," Harry muttered. Hermione thumped him on the back of the head.

"Now don't you be talkin' like that, Harry," said Hagrid sternly. "It ain't yer fault."

"We keep _telling_ him!" Ginny exclaimed in exasperation. "But he's acting the hero as usual trying to protect all of—ow!" Ron had jammed his elbow into her ribs, and she turned and saw Harry's face. "Harry, what did I…"

Hermione grabbed Harry's elbow. "She wasn't there when we…had that conversation. It's not her fault."

Harry took a deep breath, and Hagrid pushed a cup of tea into his hand. He took a gulp and let it scald his mouth. "Don't worry about it," he said gruffly. "Just…touchy…"

Ron came and sat down next to him. "Never mind that," he said. "There's nothing wrong with you trying to help people."

"Right he is, Harry," said Hagrid. "Nothing wrong with worryin' either, heaven knows we lot have done enough of it. While you were…you know…" Harry nodded and forced a smile. Hagrid grinned. "Anyway! I brought you all here with Miss Ginny 'cause I got me hands on a little somethin' I thought she might like! Remembered she doesn' have a pet, yeh see, an' I really got no time ter take care o' this one."

Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny gaped at each other as Hagrid went to a large basket from which shuffling sounds could be heard. A look of utter panic was slowly spreading across Ginny's face. "Er…Hagrid…that's very sweet of you, but I don't know…I mean, it's very sweet, but there's only certain types of animals we're allowed to have in the dorm, safety and all…"

"What?" Hagrid protested, reaching into the basket. He pulled out what looked like a ball of fuzzy black yarn. "It's a kitten!"

Ginny blinked. The ball of fuzz uncurled itself, raised a tiny head that blinked open large amber eyes, then let out a massive yawn, stretching out skinny black legs. Hermione let out a soft "ohhh!" as Ginny slowly held out her cupped hands.

The jet black kitten was easily small enough to fit into them. Harry and Ron leaned over her shoulders to scrutinize the creature, still half-afraid it would start breathing fire or unfurling spikes on its tail. But no, upon close examination, they determined that Ginny's new pet was, unmistakably, pure cat. If a miniature one.

"Hagrid," Ginny breathed as the kitten snuggled into her palms. She looked up with wide eyes at him. "She's…she's… _perfect!"_

"Thought yeh'd like her," said Hagrid, beaming. "She wouldn'a liked livin' here with Fang. What'll yeh name her?"

"How about Dolores?" suggested Ron.

"Never!" cried Ginny, cuddling the kitten to her chest. "She's adorable!"

"Wonderful, another mad, feline fiend," Ron grumbled, shaking his head.

Hermione eyed the black fur ball. "Oh, I don't know about this one, Ron. She seems pretty harmless."

"Give her a few months, and she'll be attacking Pigwidgeon."

Ginny shook her head. "You wouldn't do that, would you, Precious?"

"Gonna call 'er Precious?" suggested Hagrid.

"Oh, no, not that, it's not dignified enough," said Hermione, kneeling at Ginny's feet for a close inspection of the kitten, who sat up primly to meet her gaze. "She's darling, Hagrid. A right little goddess…Ginny! Call her Bastet!"

"The Egyptian cat goddess!" Ginny crowed. "Perfect! Why, she even looks like a statue we saw in one of the tombs, remember, Ron?"

"She does, a bit," Ron admitted. "Well, maybe this one'll turn out to be sane, unlike _some_ people's mad, half-breed Kneazles!"

"Crookshanks knew something was shady about Scabbers, that's all!" Hermione said indignantly.

"And before you said it was in his nature!"

"He helped Sirius—oh lord, sorry, Harry," Hermione said quickly.

"'s all right," Harry muttered, torn between pain at the memory and irritation at the way they all minced around him. He forced his mind away from it, then leaned forward to tentatively stroke Bastet's head with his finger. The black kitten closed her eyes and leaned into his caress, purring loudly. "I think she's okay, Ron. Perfectly cat-like."

Ginny deposited Bastet in Hermione's lap and threw herself into Hagrid's arms. "Thank you _so_ much, Hagrid! What a wonderful present! I love her!"

"Aw, well, yer welcome," said Hagrid, blushing.

* * *

 

It was too much to expect, they later reasoned, that a kitten discovered by Hagrid would not have a few, shall we say, eccentricities.

On their way back, Bastet decided she did not want to be carried in Ginny's hands, nor in the open pouch of her book bag, and climbed up Ginny's arm to sit on her shoulder! "Blimey! I've seen birds do that, but how can she balance!" Ron exclaimed, as Bastet sat upright with perfect dignity as her mistress walked.

"I don't know," Ginny mused, looking to her left to meet the cat's eyes. Bastet blinked at her once, then returned to examining the scenery. "Welcome to Hogwarts, my little goddess!"

"She is lovely," Hermione sighed. "So quiet and proper!"

They were walking down the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower to show off their new acquisition in the Common Room when Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode went by. "Hey, Weasley! What's that on your shoulder! Growing yourself a fur coat one animal at a time?"

Harry started to say, "Sod off, Parkinson," but was interrupted by a window-shattering screech of _"RREEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOW!"_

On Ginny's shoulder, Bastet had gone from an elegant little black statue to a wild-eyed demon puffed up to three times her previous size, and before the Slytherins could react, the kitten launched herself across five feet of open air to land directly upon Pansy Parkinson's face.

_"AAUGH! Ohmigawd!_ Geditoff! Geditoff! HELP!" Pansy screamed, staggering sideways into the wall, arms flailing wildly with what looked like a rabid vampire bat attached to her head. Millicent had long since fled, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stood in dumb amazement until Pansy finally managed to yank the cat off and race off down the hall, hands over her thoroughly-clawed face.

Their gazes fell to the kitten on the ground. Bastet sat up, gave herself a thorough shake, then strode back over to leap up and settle herself on Ginny's shoulder again.

"Ginny," said Ron. "I _like_ that cat."

"Yes," Ginny mused as Bastet began leisurely licking her paws. "I think she'll fit in quite nicely."

And so it was that Bastet was borne back to Gryffindor Tower in glory, and Ginny and Hermione rushed up into the girls' dormitory to show her off to Ginny's roommates. "What is it about girls and cats?" Ron mused as they sat down at a table with a wizards' chess set between them.

"I like cats well enough," said Harry, moving a knight. "I didn't when I was younger because of Mrs. Figg, but since they've been watching out for me, I guess they're all right. Smart, it seems."

"This one sure is," said Ron, grinning with relish at the memory. "Still just a baby and attacking a Slytherin without even being asked! Good instincts!"

"Very good!" Harry laughed.

All at once, the quiet common room rang with shrieks and screams from upstairs and the frenzied, high-pitched yowls of a miniature attack cat. "Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed as he and Harry sprang to their feet. "Who's she attacking now!"

"Obviously someone's up there that she doesn't like the looks of…" Harry began, then from the girls' stairwell came first a massive blur of orange fur, yowling and spitting in outrage as it ran for its life, followed by what looked like a little black missile, then Ginny and Hermione tearing down the stairs with half of the Gryffindor girls.

"Bastet! No!"

"Crookshanks!"

Crookshanks tore around chairs, over tables, up curtains, and down bookcases with Bastet at his heels, both screeching and hissing as if they were mortal enemies, until Hermione finally pounced on Crookshanks and raced back up the stairs, shielding him protectively from Bastet and yelling at Ginny, "That thing is mad! _Mad!_ "

Ron and Harry gaped as Bastet realized her quarry was no longer within reach. She tilted her head at the two of them as though wondering what they were looking at, then jumped up onto the abandoned chess board to give herself a bath. Ginny stared too. "I never imagined…"

"Ginny," gasped Ron. "I _LOVE_ that cat!"

As a fuming Hermione came back down the stairs and sharply warned Ginny to "keep that little beast out of the sixth year dormitory," Ron threw himself to his knees in front of the kitten:

"O great Bastet, O high and exalted goddess, I bow before you! Let me worship you! Catnip! I will bring you catnip, and tuna fish, and cream, whatever your furry little heart desires, I will bring…"

Hermione grabbed a pillow off a chair and began hitting him with it as Harry and Ginny collapsed with laughter. "Oh, go on, Hermione!" Harry gasped, wiping his eyes. "You've got to admit, the shoe's on the other foot!"

* * *

 

Wednesday morning was N.E.W.T. Potions. At breakfast, Harry was as nervous as he'd been before his first Quidditch match. "Harry, just eat a little something," Hermione pleaded. "You know it's mad to go to Potions on an empty stomach."

"I know," Harry muttered, trying to force himself to swallow some toast. "Don't know why I'm so tense."

"I don't blame you, mate," said Ron. "I feel weird every time I see Snape these days. He doesn't look at me, though."

"Oh, he looks at me, all right," said Hermione. "With all his usual vitriol. But I wonder how he'll react to Harry after—"

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed. "Must I have a preview?"

"Sorry," she said. "Don't fret too much. It probably won't be so bad."

"Yeah, and you'll have Hermione to hold your hand through it," Ron muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Ron!" Hermione snapped.

"Harry's not a baby, Hermione, stop mothering him! He's got my mum for that!"

"For heaven's sake, you are _the_ most tactless, uncaring—"

"Will you _both_ please shut it!" Harry snapped at them. They did, although Hermione still looked…well…motherly, and Ron still looked disgruntled.

But the roiling mass of dread in Harry's stomach got to be so bad by the time he and Hermione got to the dungeons that he worried he would lose what little he'd eaten for breakfast. His heart felt like it would pound its way out of his chest. "Just relax," Hermione murmured to him as they walked through the door.

In spite of all his efforts, his eyes were drawn straight to the front of the room to a sallow face curtained by greasy hair and two cold black eyes. Harry stopped dead as he and Snape made eye contact, but Snape immediately looked away. Swallowing hard, he hurried to join Hermione at a table next to Dean and Seamus. "Have you handed in your homework?" she whispered.

"Oh damn," he muttered, pulling it out and glaring at it. He thought the essays were rather good, having been checked over twice by Hermione during his stint in the hospital wing, but of course, if Snape were up to his old tricks he'd be lucky to scrape an "Acceptable." "I don't suppose you could take them up for me."

Hermione looked startled by the depth of his resistance to speaking to Snape. Then she looked at Snape and sighed, understanding how Harry felt. "You know that's against the rules. You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to. Just put it on his desk. He has to take it." Harry still hesitated, balling his fists in frustration. Hermione glanced across the room and scowled. "Malfoy's watching."

The next thing Harry knew, he had the parchment rolls in his hand and was marching toward Snape's desk, trying not to see or hear anything. Not that there was much to see or hear; the entire room had gone silent, all watching Harry's approach to his rescuer. Snape kept his eyes fixedly on the class notes he was working on, and when Harry deposited the scrolls on his desk, he simply picked them up and dropped them into a pile with the other homework, not once looking up. Returning to his desk, Harry didn't know whether to be relieved or not.

Snape finally got up, slapped his palm down on Malfoy's desk for attention, and began lecturing on the use of powdered bicorn horn and other thinning agents for potions. He was as scornful and derisive toward the Gryffindors as ever, as vicious to Hermione as ever, and startled the entire class by taking points from Slytherin when Malfoy loudly whispered a snide remark about turncoats.

He looked sour. He looked bitter. He looked defiant.

But he never once looked at Harry.

* * *

 

"It's not as if I expected anything," Harry remarked to Ron while they sat on Ron's bed taking refuge from the cat fight (literally) going on in the common room. "I mean…I know it's not as if _he_ owes _me._ I think. I don't remember much of him bringing me out. I know he yelled at me," he added dryly.

"It was weird, when he turned up. None of us even knew he'd gone after you," said Ron.

"I wonder if he regrets it," Harry said dryly.

Ron made an odd face. "I don't think he'd go into that kind of danger if he didn't want to. He was hurt when he got back. You said he dueled Death Eaters."

Harry nodded, fiddling with the bedspread, then glanced around to make sure no one else was in the dormitory. "I saw him use _Avada_ _Kedavra_ on one of them. And when we came out of one of the tunnels, there was a body there."

Ron goggled at him. "Blimey, Harry…he did that for you?"

"I know!" Harry shook his head helplessly. "That's why it's all so weird! He hated Sirius—I'm sure he's glad about…what happened. And I think he still hates me—maybe more than ever."

"Well, he did lose a lot. Blew his cover as a spy, shot his main job with the Order—not his fault of course, but the fact that he did it on your account has to rankle. I'll bet that now Snape's the only person Voldemort would like to see dead as much as you." Ron reached into the sweet stash beside his bed and pulled out two Chocolate Frogs, tossing one to Harry.

Harry missed the toss and had to jump off the bed to get it. Glancing at his own disorderly trunk, he noticed the red and gold diary edge peeking out of it. Ron watched as he slowly pulled it out. "I've been wanting to find out what happened."

"There's not that much in there, mate," said Ron, coming to join him. "Just a lot of us wandering around and trying to figure out what to do. And crying a lot. Though we did…"

"What?"

"Well, we got into big trouble for it, but we Flooed to Mrs. Figg's house when the Aurors started coming back and…well…" Ron indicated the diary. "Want to see? Hermione won't mind if we go without her." Harry slowly nodded. Ron took the diary and opened it between them on Harry's bed. "Where do you want to start?"

"The night of the attack," said Harry quietly.

"Right. Hand on the diary. Easy enough, it's Page One." Ron put his own hand on the diary, looked at Harry, and swallowed. "July First!" And the book sucked them in.


	8. Backward, Forward, and Sideways

The world reformed around Ron and Harry in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry gasped, not having seen it since Sirius had died, and Ron winced. "Sorry, I should've warned you."

"It's all right," said Harry, taking a deep breath to calm down.

Ron pointed at the bottom stair. "There we are."

Harry turned and saw Ron and Hermione sitting on the stair, both with their arms wrapped around their knees, tense and quiet. Ron was leaning slightly against the banister, and Hermione was leaning against Ron. "How long has it been?" she asked.

Ron looked at his watch. "Almost an hour."

"It'll be okay," Hermione whispered, seemingly to herself. "He'll be okay." Ron nodded, swallowing convulsively.

There was a _whoosh_ from the fireplace, and Ron and Hermione sprang to their feet and sprinted into the parlor. "What happened!" they cried simultaneously.

It was an Order member, Emmeline Vance, Harry recalled. She was bruised, disheveled, and dirty, and she looked like someone who'd just fought and lost a battle. She flinched a little at the sight of Ron and Hermione. "I can't say, dears. Just came to pick up some healing potions." She ran past them into the kitchen, and came running back through with a black box before vanishing in a _whoosh_ of green flames.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other. "I think it's over," Hermione said. "She'd have been in a bigger rush if it weren't, and Aurors don't treat injuries on the site of an ongoing battle."

"Then where's Harry?" Ron whispered.

"I don't know," she croaked, fighting back tears.

Ron stared at the fireplace. "Hermione…this goes to Mrs. Figg's house. The Squib next door to Harry." He pointed to the bin of Floo Powder next to it.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oooh…they'd kill us…"

"But I want to find out if Harry's okay. Now." Ron's hands were shaking as he scooped up a handful of powder. "You don't have to come; I'll nip over and find out and come back to tell you."

But Hermione was already going for the powder. "We'd best stay out of their way. We'll just pop in, take a look out the window, and pop out again. Ready?"

Together, they shouted, "Number Two, Privet Drive!" and Harry and Ron were swept away with them.

The parlor of Mrs. Figg's house was empty, but there was plenty of noise outside. Ron and Hermione clutched their wands as they hurried to the window. "I can't see Harry's house," whispered Hermione. "It must be over, though. The Aurors are just standing about…look at all the houses! Oh, those poor people!"

"Poor old Muggles," muttered Ron, taking in the ruin of the street. "Never knew what hit them. The battle must be over. Let's see if we can look out the door."

Hermione grabbed his hand. "No, let's try another window. If we go rushing out there, they could send us back before we find anything out." So they ran, still clutching hands, out to Mrs. Figg's kitchen and pushed back the curtains on the small kitchen window.

"Hermione!" Ron recoiled in horror, and Hermione quickly took his place.

"Oh no…oh God…Harry! His poor family!" Hermione wailed.

Ron didn't have to say, and Harry didn't have to look to know what his friends were seeing: the Dark Mark hovering over Number Four, Privet Drive as the house burned. He could see the flicker of the flames. If it hadn't been for present-day Ron's hand on his shoulder, he didn't think he could have faced it.

Hermione and Ron had given up on stealth and were running for Mrs. Figg's front door. They slipped it open and burst out onto the porch to see Mrs. Figg occupied with tending wounded Aurors on her lawn as best she could.

"It's worse than Dad used to say," Ron breathed, his eyes still fixed on the Dark Mark.

"Ron, where's Harry!" Hermione half-sobbed.

"I don't know! Merlin's beard, I don't know! Come on!"

They were halfway across Mrs. Figg's garden before she spotted them. "Hey! What are you two doing here!"

"Run!" Ron hissed at Hermione, and they sprinted past her.

"Come back here! This place isn't—Alastor! This is no place for children!"

"OY! YOU TWO GET BACK HERE!"

Harry and Ron followed Hermione and Ron over to the Dursleys' house, where Aurors were using dousing spells to put out the fire. "Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione screamed, seeing him.

Harry had never seen Dumbledore look so…defeated. He was talking to one of the Aurors, his shoulders slumped, his forehead in one hand, head bowed. At Hermione's shout, he turned, and an expression of utter heartbreak filled his face at the sight of Harry's best friends. Both of them stopped short.

"Professor…" Ron's voice was low and shaky as he approached Dumbledore, ignoring the furiously-scolding Aurors around them. "Where is he?" he looked around, obviously hoping for Harry to emerge from the crowd of Aurors.

Harry had never seen his friends so distraught. Both were breathing in shaky gasps, and they were holding onto each other by the elbows, white-faced, clearly on the edge of hysterics. Then movement caught Harry's eye at the same time as those in the memory: several Aurors were coming out of the still-smoldering house, dropping belongings into piles on the burning garden.

The last pair came out more slowly, and their arms were not laden like the others'. Harry's heart did a back flip: it was Tonks and Remus. Tonks had Harry's Firebolt in one hand, and her free arm supported Remus. Remus was holding Harry's wand, and leaning on Tonks as though he could barely walk on his own.

Hermione let out a sobbing gasp. "Professor Lupin?"

Remus's head shot up, and the light of the fires hit his eyes, reflecting such grief, such horror and despair that Harry recoiled. In the past, it had an even greater impact on Ron and Hermione. "NO!" Ron shouted, almost as if he were angry. "Harry's not dead! He CAN'T be dead!"

"No, Weasley," said Moody in a surprisingly gentle voice. "Not dead. He was taken."

"Taken," Hermione whispered, tears sliding from her wide eyes. "Taken…where…by who…"

In the garden, Remus dropped to his knees as if he had no strength to stand anymore, clutching Harry's wand in his hands and rocking slightly. Harry felt tears sliding down his own face and didn't dare look at the present-day Ron standing behind him. Hermione and Ron ran to Remus, throwing their arms around him as he wept, Harry's wand clasped against his forehead.

"Sirius," Remus gasped. "Lily, James, I'm so sorry! I tried, I'm so sorry!"

Tonks had stepped aside to let Ron and Hermione through, but now she and Moody and Mrs. Figg came back and began to tug them away. "Come on, you two. It's not safe here. You've got to go home."

"He'll be all right, won't he?" Hermione cried, grabbing the front of Tonks' robes. "You'll get him back, won't you?"

"Won't rest till we do, lass," said Moody. "On your feet now. Nothing you can do here."

Ron didn't come away as easily. "Remus, it's not your fault," he kept saying.

"I promised," Remus groaned as though in physical pain. "I swore I'd take care of him!"

"He'll be okay!" Ron insisted, ignoring the gentle hands trying to pry him away from Lupin. "We'll get him back; he'll be okay!"

 _"RON!"_ A familiar voice made them look up. Mrs. Weasley was racing toward them across the lawn, both hands over her mouth. Lupin broke down again as Ron pulled away from him to throw himself into his mother's arms.

"Mum, they've got Harry! Those bastards've got Harry!"

"I know, I know," Mrs. Weasley sobbed, hugging him.

"Molly," said Professor Dumbledore. "We're doing everything we can to find him. But Ron and Hermione can do nothing here."

Wiping her eyes furiously, Mrs. Weasley held out a free arm to Hermione, who ran over to her. "Let's go," she said in a strangely steady voice, keeping an arm around each of them. "We'll wait for news together." As if they had no power to obey, they let her lead them away.

Harry followed until they were back in Grimmauld Place. Ron's voice behind him, a little unsteady, made him jump. "We waited all night. Hermione actually hexed Kreacher when he started to go on about you. She _silencio_ 'd him and locked him in his cupboard." Harry was impressed. He had no love or pity lost for Kreacher at all, but that Hermione would be agitated enough to hex him seemed unfathomable. Ron pointed his wand upward and said, "July second, seven o'clock a.m."

The world changed little—only a few shadows swept along the wall. It was early morning, and Ron and Hermione were curled up on the sofa with Mrs. Weasley in between them, each with their head on her shoulders. "Hermione's parents were still in bed," Ron explained. "I…don't think they quite understood what was happening. She told them later that morning."

"Where…" Harry's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Where was Ginny?"

"At the shop with Fred and George. They kept her there when we got word of the attack. She's coming now," said Ron, nodding to the parlor door.

The noise of many entries to the house and the shrieks of Mrs. Black's portrait brought Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley to their feet. A moment later, the parlor door burst open to admit Mr. Weasley, who immediately threw his arms around Mrs. Weasley, Ginny (who threw her arms around Ron), Bill, Charlie, and the twins, who looked grim and fearful as they went to hug Hermione. Hermione's parents came downstairs a few moments later, and Hermione ran, sobbing, to tell them Harry had been kidnapped. They hugged their daughter and looked past her at the Weasleys in fear and confusion.

"They had no idea, of course, what Voldemort's capable of," said Ron. "They'd no idea what half of _us_ were capable of. Kreacher gave them a good scare the first time he saw Muggles in the house. And Mrs. Black. I think a few times they wanted to take Hermione away, but Dumbledore talked them out of it."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were quietly talking to the Grangers in a corner while the rest of the Weasley siblings and Hermione huddled together on the couch, white-faced and silent, when the parlor door opened again, and Remus came in. He looked terrible, his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, his face still stained from sweat, soot, and tears, and Harry's wand was still clutched in his hands. The Weasleys and the Grangers were silent, waiting for him to speak.

"There's no word," he said in a dead-sounding voice that made Harry flinch. "They're searching…everyone's searching…but no word at all. They'll keep looking. They sent me back. It's full moon tomorrow. I should go…" Remus dragged himself out and through to the stairs.

Hermione and Ron jumped up and ran after him. "Remus!" Hermione said anxiously, catching him at the foot of the steps. Lupin stopped and looked at her. She stared back as if she'd forgotten what she wanted to say. Then suddenly, her face crumpled, and she fell into his arms, choking on sobs. "Remus, I'm so scared!"

Remus shut his eyes and hugged her fiercely as tears still leaked down his face. "Me too, Hermione," he whispered. Ron leaned against the wall next to them, his eyes very red. "We must hold on," Remus said, holding Hermione at arm's length and looking from her to Ron. "For his sake, we must not give up. Harry needs all the hope we can give him." They both nodded vigorously. Remus gave them a weak smile. "I have to go now." Then he turned and trudged up the stairs.

"And that was it," said Ron as they watched his past self sink onto the stairs again with Hermione, hugging her miserably. "For two whole months. I heard Hermione singing 'Happy Birthday' at the window at midnight on July thirty-first, and Ginny wouldn't let Mum get her anything when she made Prefect. She sort of felt like if she held out, you coming home would be her present. Sometimes…I just thought I'd go mad any minute, not knowing if you were…alive or not." He smiled weakly at Harry. "Bloody hell, I'm glad you're back."

"Me too," Harry said quietly. They looked uncomfortably away from each other. "Can we go ahead to the last part? Where you saw Snape?"

"Right, then," Ron pointed his wand upward. "September First, seven-thirty p.m.!"

Grimmauld Place vanished, and was replaced with the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione were watching the sorting. Harry was shaken all over again by the change in his friends. Both were noticeably thinner, and their faces had a pinched, tight look as though they'd forgotten how to smile. Neither seemed very interested in the sorting taking place; sometimes they forgot to applaud when new Gryffindors came to the table. Ginny had her head on Ron's shoulder, and Hermione was staring off into space. Many people at the Gryffindor table had red eyes. Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, was smirking.

Professor Dumbledore got up to make his usual speech. "I would like to say a few words before we begin our start-of-term feast—"

That was all he had time for. With a loud crash, the doors to the Great Hall were knocked open by someone slamming into them, and a figure staggered through. Harry gasped aloud—along with everyone in the Great Hall. Even Dumbledore's mouth opened.

It was Snape. He was swaying on his feet, his face bleeding and dirty, and draped limply across his arms, unconscious but clearly alive, was Harry.

Someone screamed. Then pandemonium broke loose. Snape dropped to his knees, unable to carry Harry's weight any further, as Ron and Hermione leapt from their seats and sprinted toward him. Somehow, Dumbledore got there ahead, and with one hand raised, stopped the mad rush. "All of you return to your seats at once!" he ordered. Gasping and whispering, the students obeyed—all except Ron and Hermione, who stayed where they were. "Hagrid? Would you please assist us?"

Hagrid pushed through the teachers. "Merlin's beard, Harry! Thank heavens!" He scooped Harry from Snape's arms and hurried out of the Great Hall after Madam Pomfrey, who was already running full-tilt toward the hospital wing.

Professor Dumbledore himself helped Snape up, supporting part of the injured man's weight. "It's over, Headmaster," Snape hissed through clenched teeth. "He knows. He knows everything."

"I know, Severus, it could not be helped," Dumbledore said, assisting Snape out of the Great Hall. "Well done. Very well done."

Professor McGonagall was still staring in shock after the retreating Hagrid, but she shook herself out of it and saw Ron and Hermione standing there stubbornly. She opened her mouth as if to order them back to their seats, then sighed and said, "Miss Granger. Mr. Weasley. If you're going to come, you will keep out of the way."

"We will," whispered Hermione.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Then follow me." And Ron and Hermione rushed after her to the hospital wing.

* * *

When they had emerged from the diary back into dormitory, Harry and Ron were quiet for a long time. "I'm glad I wasn't awake for that," Harry finally said.

 

Ron closed the diary and looked up at him without smiling. "Me too."

* * *

Friday was Harry's first Specialized Defense class with Ron and Hermione. When they walked into the classroom, Harry was startled (and not a little disappointed) to see an unfamiliar Professor sitting at the front desk. "Who's that?" he whispered to Ron and Hermione. "Where's Professor Lupin?"

 

"He's not teaching this class," said Hermione. "That's Professor Smythe-Wellington. She works in Madam Bones' office at the Ministry, but she used to be an Auror."

"She did it for fifteen years, then switched to teaching the trainees," said Ron. "Tonks probably had her. She'd only just gone to Madam Bones' office last year when she got asked to teach this class."

"What's she like?" asked Harry, eyeing the new Professor with a small measure of suspicion.

The woman was middle-aged and very tall, and something about her fine-boned, aristocratic features and the way she wore her elegantly-embroidered robes seemed to shout _pureblood._ Her hair was blonde, not Malfoy white-blond but a darker honey blonde showing the first signs of serious graying, and there was a definitely condescending air about her. But she wore a copper-and-sapphire broach in the shape of an eagle: a Ravenclaw. That, in the end, was what set Harry's mind a little more at ease; she could not have looked less like Dolores Umbridge.

Hermione noticed his scrutiny. "It's hard to say from the first class. Last week, she seemed…straightforward."

The bell had rung, and Professor Smythe-Wellington's stern gaze landed on the three of them in such a way that made them scurry to their seats. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter," she said in a voice that, while lacking Snape's outright hostility, was a little less than welcoming. "I believe you have an assignment to turn in to me?"

Harry faltered; he hadn't finished his Specialized Defense homework yet, assuming that Professor Lupin would allow him more time than the other teachers to hand it in. "I'm sorry…it isn't finished," he said.

One sculpted eyebrow rose, and the new teacher replied curtly, "You were released from the hospital wing six days ago, and school regulations require no more than a week to make up missed assignments, Mr. Potter. I will expect your completed work in my office no later than Monday if you desire me to mark it."

His face burning under her gaze, Harry muttered, "Yes, ma'am."

She turned away as if dismissing him from any notice and addressed the class, "Please open your textbooks to— _what is so amusing, Mr. Malfoy!"_

Everyone jumped. Draco, who had been sniggering gleefully at Harry's expense, gaped for a moment before blurting out, "Nothing!"

"There had best not be" Professor Smythe-Wellington snapped. Glaring around the room, she said coldly, "As this is a class intended for students with serious intention of pursuing careers in Magical Law Enforcement, under no circumstances will I tolerate horseplay, rowdyism, or disruptions of any kind, _is that clear!_ "

"Yes, Professor!" the entire class exclaimed.

"Open your textbooks to page two hundred thirty-six: today we shall begin discussing Aurors." Harry couldn't suppress a thrill of excitement that they were going straight to the subject he was most interested in. "The Auror's profession is the most well-known of the Magical Law Enforcement occupations, however it is also among the most rigidly-selected, highly-trained, and dangerous career choices in the wizarding world. _That,_ students, is the reason the majority of this course will focus upon Aurors, and also the reason that much of our emphasis will be upon the training, tests, drive, and aptitude that the Auror's craft demands. Any illusions that you may have of glamour or adventure in an Auror's life shall be quickly dispelled." All at once, her hard blue eyes focused on Harry again. He gulped. "Has something amused _you_ now, Mr. Potter?"

 _Bloody hell, is it against the rules to smile in this class!_ Harry thought in despair. Aloud, he said tightly, "No, Professor, I was just…glad to be learning about Aurors. I want to be one," he blurted, hoping to assuage her wrath.

"Do you." She sniffed, and went on lecturing about the complete lack of luster in Auror life as if nothing had happened. Harry fought the urge to sigh. Would _anyone_ who wasn't Professor McGonagall be supportive of his career choice? For that matter, would Professor McGonagall even have vouched for him if she hadn't been so determined to show up Professor Umbridge at the time? He did sigh then, fortunately Professor Smythe-Wellington was busy slapping down Malfoy again, so she had her back to him.

For the remainder of class, Professor Smythe-Wellington had them answering a series of what she termed "problem-solving" questions that as far as Harry could see had nothing whatsoever to do with fighting dark wizards – or anything to do with magical law enforcement at all. Hermione was bent over them enthusiastically, but nearly everyone else was looking at each other in confusion. Nonetheless, Harry worked his way through them, (quashing a momentary impulse to write down something mad like he and Ron used to in Trelawney's class) and kept his face as blank as he could when he walked up to Smythe-Wellington's desk to hand his paper in.

She was handing a parchment to each student as they came up, so he waited while she scanned his answers to her nonsense questions. The look she shot him over the top of his paper was so much like one of Snape's old "you-are-definitely-getting-a-'T'-on-this-assignment" expressions that Harry nearly recoiled. Dropping his questions into the stack with the others, she handed him a parchment. "Your homework for this week, Mr. Potter, and I will expect it on time next Friday with your classmates."

Her eyes seemed to dare him to ask for an extension, even though between the regular reading assignment, his make-up essay, and this, he'd be lucky to get out of the library all week. But he was determined not to give her anything else to sneer at, so he nodded curtly, (while biting the inside of his mouth hard), spun around, and headed back toward his desk.

He never made it. All at once, the room began tilting around him, forcing him to stop and put his hand on the nearest desk for balance. "All right, there, Harry?" asked Dean Thomas.

"Sit down, Mr. Thomas, the bell has not yet rung—"

"Harry?" Hermione exclaimed, jumping up.

Harry couldn't seem to focus his eyes. Nor could he seem to concentrate on what was happening around him; something he could not identify was dragging his attention away. He vaguely heard Smythe-Wellington get up. "Mr. Potter, what is—"

"Oy! What's this—Potter's about to faint again!"

"Does that a lot, doesn't he?"

 _"Silence!_ Twenty points from Slytherin! Potter!"

Someone grabbed his shoulders. He caught a blur of red hair. "Harry! Can you hear me?"

Harry wasn't even aware that he'd sunk to his knees. Hands on his shoulders and arms were the only thing that kept him from sprawling full-length on the floor. The classroom around him, the voices, the hands, they were all fading, vanishing…

* * *

He flexed his long, white fingers, anticipation and focus surging through him. Screams and howls of fear and rage echoed through the stone audience chamber. Black-robed wizards were carrying in captives, bound but ungagged, and chaining them together within a ring of torches. The floor within the center of the ring beneath the captives—they were all goblins—was smeared with something thick and red that flickered wetly in the torchlight.

 

One of the black-robed wizards came before Harry and bowed low. "All is ready, Master."

Harry did not need to be told; he was aware of all that was happening, but concentrating upon the task at hand. This magic, the force needed to draw the strength, the skills, the knowledge of the goblins, it would require all his concentration…all his focus…

"Keep them well-fed, Wormtail," he said in a high, cold voice that cared nothing for the prisoners' comfort. "Their strength must not be squandered before midnight."

"Yes, my lord." Wormtail bowed again and hurried away.

Harry flexed his hands again and stepped into the torch ring, ignoring the hissing and spitting of the goblins as he went to stand right in their midst. To a woman and man standing on the outside of the ring, also robed in black, he said, "The draining spell will be complete three hours past sunset. See to it I am not interrupted."

"Yes, Master," the two bowed.

Harry closed his eyes, feeling the power of the goblins' magic surging around him in their fear and anger, just waiting to be harvested…he called upon all his strength, all his concentration, all the power at his own command to tear their power from them…

* * *

"NOOOOOO!"

 

 _"HARRY!_ Can you hear me!" cried a girl's voice, right near his ear.

Harry's eyes flew open. His scar wasn't burning, instead it was throbbing, pulsing in an odd way. He thrashed against the arms trying to restrain him. "Potter! Stop struggling!"

"What's the matter with him?"

The world stopped spinning, but there were so many faces above his that Harry was still confused. "What—where—"

"You collapsed, Potter, in Specialized Defense," said a middle-aged woman with hard blue eyes. "You should go to the hospital wing—"

"No!" Harry gasped, remembering what he'd seen and finally realizing what it meant. "Dumbledore! Get—Dumbledore—now—Voldemort—" Gasps rang out. The whole class was still there.

"I am here, Harry," said a familiar voice, and hands pushed Harry to sit up. He found Dumbledore kneeling in front of him, face slightly lowered to avoid meeting Harry's eyes. "What did you see?"

"Goblins," Harry choked out, his scar still pulsing from Voldemort's concentration on the spell. "Voldemort—spell—trying—drain their magic—"

"What the blazes is he talking about?" someone said.

"Quiet there!" snapped the woman, who Harry finally remembered was the Specialized Defense teacher.

Unable to concentrate on anything himself except what Voldemort was up to, Harry grabbed at Dumbledore's robes. "You've got—stop him," he babbled. "It'll make him stronger—he's concentrating really hard—he wants their power—"

"Hush, Harry!" said Dumbledore. "We will take action. Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, please assist Harry to the hospital wing." Then he jumped up with surprising nimbleness for a wizard of his years and hurried from the room.

Harry shook his head, rubbing at his scar. "I wish he'd stop!" he muttered.

"Stop what?" asked Hermione.

"He's trying a really difficult spell…concentrating…bloody driving me crazy!" Harry was too disoriented to realize that the entire class was still watching him, but Professor Smythe-Wellington had apparently heard enough.

"All right, Potter, be quiet. Granger, Weasley, you heard what the Headmaster said. The rest of you, clear this room immediately and go about your business!"

Ron and Hermione helped Harry to his feet, but he managed to walk unaided out the door, (though Ron insisted on carrying his book bag.) Quite a few members of the D.A. who had wound up in this class (in fact, it was nearly all the sixth year members) fell into step around them. "Harry…" said Dean timidly. "People are saying…you can _read You-Know-Who's mind?"_

Harry sighed heavily, causing Ron and Hermione both to yelp and grab his arms as though afraid he would faint again. "No, I can't. Not really," he replied, and without really meaning to, he found himself explaining, "Just when he gets really angry or happy about something, sometimes I feel it…I guess he was concentrating his mind and his power so hard on this spell it just sort of pulled me right out…"

"How's that possible?" asked Parvati softly.

Harry turned to her wordlessly and tapped his scar. Her eyes got very round. "So that's not just a bunch of codswallop the _Daily Prophet_ dreamed up?" exclaimed Michael Corner.

"Believe me, I wish it was," Harry grumbled, making several of them laugh nervously. "It's a bloody nuisance. Distracts me from my homework and all that." The laughter came a little more easily.

"So what's this spell he's supposed to be trying to do?" asked Neville. "And what can Dumbledore do to stop it?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. "I just hope—"

Pain lanced through his head, doubling him over as he clutched at his scar…it was burning, searing…and from deep inside him came an explosive surge of such fury…such terrible rage…it was enough to send his skin flying off…the heat consuming him…such hate…there would be vengeance for this, without doubt, there could be no one else responsible…the whelp would pay…

A frenzied roar of fury tore from his throat, blasting in his ears, echoing in his head. He thought it would blast his eyeballs out from the inside of his head, there was so much force behind it…

"H-Harry?"

Harry came to himself with the hard edge of a stone stair digging into his back. It was very quiet. All he could hear were stifled whimpers and gasps, and his own ragged breathing. His throat hurt badly, but his scar was the worst. It felt like someone had stabbed a knife into it—but it no longer pulsed. He closed his eyes and groaned. "Well…he's…definitely—not—happy—"

"Harry…what happened?" whispered Hermione's shaking voice.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes, and heard a shuffle nearby. Someone pressed his glasses into his hand, and he put them on to see everyone in the corridor except Ron and Hermione standing well away from him, looking utterly terrified. What had they been talking about…oh.

Bloody hell. He had just given them a classic demonstration.

"I think," he coughed painfully. His throat felt awful. "I think Dumbledore did something…to make Voldemort stop the spell. And he's really…really livid about it. He put a lot into it, and now it's ruined."

"Harry?" Professor Lupin was running down the corridor. "Are you all right?"

"I think so," Harry said, pulling himself up with Lupin's help. "Did Dumbledore stop them?"

"I haven't spoken to him, but judging by your reaction, it appears so." Lupin looked him over. "Do you think Voldemort knew you saw it?"

Harry leaned against the cool stone wall. His face felt flushed. "I'm not sure. He was really…focused. But something…when he was angry, it was definitely _at_ someone…I don't really remember." He grimaced and said softly, "Wormtail was there. Helping with the spell."

Remus stiffened a little. "I see. Did you recognize anyone else with him?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy." Professor McGonagall's voice echoed down the hall, sending the students on their way. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances and stayed where they were.

As the noise down the corridor lessened, Lupin gave Harry a gentle nudge. "Let's get you off to the headmaster's office, then. I've no doubt they'll want a full report. The rest…" Remus smiled at them. "Be off with you. You can wring the details out of Harry later."

With sheepish smiles, they obeyed, and Harry let Lupin lead him to Dumbledore's office. But just as they reached the gargoyle, they discovered Cornelius Fudge heading there as well, followed by Percy Weasley. Fudge jumped at the sight of Harry. "Ah…Potter. Just the boy we wanted to see."


	9. Whose Mind Is This, Anyway?

The gargoyle swung around to reveal Professor Dumbledore standing at the entrance to the office. "Cornelius. Harry, right on time. Why don't we all come in and sit down?"

Harry peered past Fudge at Percy, but he wouldn't meet Harry's eyes. Fudge was nervously eyeing Remus, who was close behind Harry and giving Fudge a "keep your distance" glare worthy of Sirius. They all filed in, and Harry and Remus sat down by Dumbledore's desk. Fudge sat in another chair, and Percy stood behind him. Clearing his throat, with a nervous glance at Dumbledore, Fudge said, "Well…Potter. How'd you know Lord…You-Know-Who was doing this spell?"

"You needn't sound so accusatory, Minister," said Lupin quietly.

Percy bristled, "I'm sure the Minister's only trying to get the facts!"

Harry looked mutely at Dumbledore. _What do I tell him?_ Dumbledore merely nodded. "I…" Fudge and Percy stared at him. _Well…half the school already knows._ "I saw it."

Fudge blinked in confusion, while Percy looked simply horrified. " _Saw_ it?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "It appears, Cornelius, that the pains Harry has suffered in his scar in past years were indeed an indication of a magical connection with Lord Voldemort."

Both Fudge and Percy flinched at the name and looked at each other, then at Harry. "So he has been…hallucinating?" asked Fudge.

"They're NOT hallucinations!" Harry snapped, making them jump. "I was right, wasn't I?"

There was a clear, ringing note from Fawkes, as if the phoenix were standing up for Harry, and he flew back to perch on Harry's knee again. Professor Dumbledore smiled. "I think you'll find, Cornelius, that phoenixes are excellent judges of character. Fawkes would not befriend Harry if his heart were not on the side of right."

Watching Harry stroke the bright feathers, Fudge seemed to relax a little. "Well…" he muttered, "true, very true…but…Dumbledore…what's to stop this…connection from working the other way?"

If Fawkes hadn't trilled again right then, Harry would have flinched. He didn't look up, but felt Fudge and Percy's eyes on him. Quietly, Dumbledore said, "I fear that is a possibility."

Harry started to look up at him, but felt a stirring of anger he knew wasn't his own, and quickly looked down again. _Get out of my head, you stupid…GET OUT!_ Rubbing his forehead furiously, he glanced up between his fingers and saw them all staring at him. "Sorry," he muttered. "This afternoon…gave me a headache."

Fawkes crooned, and Harry took a deep breath. His heart was pounding. If Voldemort possessed him here, now, there was no telling what Fudge would do. He heard Fudge say, "Unpleasant business, Dumbledore, unpleasant for everyone. But it's got to be asked…is the boy… _safe?_ "

The grip of Remus's hand on his shoulder would have helped, except that Harry kept hating himself for wishing it were Sirius. "I think most will agree there is no place in Europe or the world where Harry will be safer from Lord Voldemort than at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore.

"True, I suppose, very true," Fudge murmured, but then Percy spoke up.

"But what about the safety of the rest of the Hogwarts students?"

The words tore into Harry like a serpent's fangs, and he jerked his head up, staring at Percy in shock—and many other feelings as well. Percy wasn't looking at him, but fixing Dumbledore with the hardest look Harry had ever seen on the middle Weasley's face.

Worse, Fudge was beginning to nod. "Weasley's got a point there, Dumbledore. Couldn't You-Know-Who use him against Hogwarts? There are many children here; you're as responsible for them as you are for Potter. What'll you tell their families?"

Harry jumped up, causing Fawkes to flutter into the air, and headed for the door. "Harry!" Lupin exclaimed.

"Where's he going—"

But Harry was thwarted by the fact that when he reached the door, it refused to open. He yanked futilely at it, then let go in frustration. "Harry," said Dumbledore gently. "Please come back."

Harry let his breath out slowly, then turned around, keeping his eyes on the floor, and returned to his seat. He hadn't been leaving because Fudge and Percy's words offended him, he admitted to himself bitterly. He couldn't stand hearing it because they were both right. What was to stop Voldemort from possessing him right here at Hogwarts? Harry _was_ dangerous!

Dumbledore spoke. "I understand your concerns, Cornelius, Percy. But I see no reason to resort to drastic action. To attempt to penetrate Hogwarts in any fashion would be a great risk to Lord Voldemort—and Harry's warning has already thwarted his attempt to draw from a new source of power. I can assure you, that the efforts of everyone here at Hogwarts will be focused upon resisting him—Harry's more than anyone."

 _Sure, I try,_ Harry thought. _It just never seems to make the slightest difference._

"And that's it?" said Percy. "You're taking it all on faith with so much at risk?"

"I will _not_ take action against someone who is guilty of nothing!" said Dumbledore, his voice rising slightly. Percy shrank back. More gently, Dumbledore went on, "Harry has a difficult struggle ahead. And as long as I am headmaster here, Hogwarts will be open to him."

Harry wished he could look at Dumbledore, now more than ever. A little of the resentment and bitterness left over from last year had faded away at hearing Dumbledore's words. It meant a lot, but…Harry was afraid Voldemort would come knocking at his mind if he looked at Dumbledore.

After a long silence, Fudge cleared his throat. "Well…suppose there's nothing to be done, in that case. You'll keep me informed, of course, if Potter…sees anything else?"

"Of course, Cornelius."

"Right, then." Fudge stood up. "We'll be off. Dumbledore, Lupin, Potter." Donning his bowler hat, he marched back to the door, which (to Harry's intense annoyance) opened for him. Percy followed Fudge out without so much as a glance at Harry.

As the door swung closed, Harry looked longingly at it. "Can I go now?"

"One moment longer, Harry," said Dumbledore, as if Harry had never been locked in that office and practically threatening to demolish it if he wasn't let out. "Remus, would you excuse us?" Lupin immediately headed for the door, though Harry wished he could summon the courage to protest. He felt better with Remus there. He kept his eyes anywhere but Dumbledore's face as the Headmaster said, "We must discuss the question of Occlumency."

Harry nearly looked up at Dumbledore as a sense of utter disbelief washed over him. "You want me to take it with Snape again."

" _Professor_ Snape, Harry," said Dumbledore, just a trifle sternly. "Under the circumstances, I feel there may be no other choice.

"But he won't want to teach me again," Harry said desperately. "You said it yourself; he couldn't overcome his feelings about my father. And it was Snape always taunting—" he broke off, turning his face away.

All of a sudden, he felt an overwhelming need for Dumbledore to offer to teach him himself. _I can't trust anyone without putting them in danger! I want to have someone nearby that I trust who Voldemort can't kill! Why can't you teach me Occlumency!_

It must have shown in his face. Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid Professor Snape may be the only one qualified to teach you Occlumency, Harry, with circumstances as they are now."

Frustrated anger burst inside Harry like the pop of a bubble. "Well, how do _you_ always manage to keep him out?" he snapped fiercely. "If he knows you know the prophecy, why hasn't he tried to pry it out of _your_ head! Why is _Professor_ Snape the only one bloody _qualified_ if _you_ have never had Voldemort take over you!"

Dumbledore didn't so much as flinch under Harry's sudden barrage of angry words. Inside, beneath the anger, Harry supposed he should probably stop ranting before Dumbledore got impatient with it and started actually taking him to task for being so insolent. But on the other hand… _I hate Snape! Don't you bloody understand! If there's anyone to blame other than me for being a bleeding idiot and you for keeping me in the dark, it's him for what he did to Sirius! Sirius might have stayed where he was but for Snape's damn teasing!_ He recalled what Dumbledore had said about Sirius being too old and clever for Snape's goading to hurt, but dismissed it; between being forced to remain inside all the time and Snape's taunting, Harry didn't blame Sirius for snapping. _I didn't have that excuse. And it turned out Sirius DID need to rescue me. I hate Snape…I hate him…_

But it was Snape who had rescued him. And Harry still didn't understand _why._

"Harry," said Dumbledore patiently, "Voldemort has never, and will never, attempt to penetrate my mind. I possess other defenses that would render such an attempt futile. But those methods do not include Occlumency."

"Why can't you teach me those then?" Harry asked tightly, taking deep breaths in a less-than-successful effort to calm down. He hadn't quite yelled yet, but the urge to scream was growing. "Why does it have to be Occlumency?"

"Because it is your mind that Lord Voldemort has targeted, time and again. For that reason, you must learn to defend yourself against the method of attack he has chosen. I promise you, Harry," the gentleness in Dumbledore's voice forced Harry to look away again, "I will have a long conversation with Professor Snape on the subject of these lessons. Some wounds do run too deep for healing, but they can be set aside for the sake of a greater goal. You know that Professor Snape has already done so once."

Harry got up and walked over to stare into the fireplace, just for the sake of moving about. His voice sounded absurdly small and shaky when he said, "You told me before you should have taught me yourself. You do know Occlumency."

"Yes, I know it. I know what I have read in books and learnt in school, what I have practiced among Aurors, or even in the past, I have defended myself against an unfriendly mind determined to drag secrets from me," said Dumbledore. "But Harry, never have I been in the position of defending my thoughts against Lord Voldemort himself. He has never attempted it, and would likely fail if he tried because, though I may be immodest to admit it, he fears me." Over his glasses, Dumbledore's clear blue eyes hardened. "That will not help you. It is the prophecy Voldemort fears, Harry, not you yourself. He knows already he can bend your mind to suit his purposes; attempting Legilimency against you holds no worry for him. It is true, I could teach you what I know, but I cannot be sure my own experiences will be sufficient to prepare you."

"But _Professor_ Snape's are," Harry sighed, slumping his shoulders in resignation.

"Yes, Harry. I would not force you and Severus into this position if I were not absolutely certain now that, provided you can set aside your ill feelings, he could enable you to defend your mind against Voldemort."

"And you really think he—and I—can set all that aside? Now?" Harry asked, spinning away from the fireplace but speaking with more despair than anger. "It's not just my dad; you know what I think about him and—and Sirius. Now more than ever I don't want him mucking about my mind! I don't trust him!"

"I know. And more's the pity," Dumbledore shook his head. "You and Severus are on the same side, when all is said and done, Harry. You know it, and he knows it, or he would not have risked what he did to save your life. But your mutual distrust—and disdain—is yet another reason why he shall provide you with more…convincing practice." His eyes suddenly twinkled, and Harry was astonished to hear himself chuckle.

"I suppose that is true at least." Harry shook his head to himself; still bitter, still frustrated, still missing Sirius so much that thinking about it made him want to scream at the sky, still hating Snape only slightly less than Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange…he nonetheless felt a little better. He still couldn't bring himself to feel the same trust and awe toward Dumbledore that he had before last year, but…he shook off a confused jumble of emotions and asked, "So what should I do?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Professor Snape will be in touch with you, and will give you all due respect." Harry nodded, still feeling a sour taste in his mouth at the thought of working with Snape again. "And Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I will expect you to afford the same consideration to him."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

 

Returning to the common room, Harry wanted nothing more than to throw on his pajamas and collapse for a few days. The vision, the meeting with Fudge, the prospect of more Occlumency with Snape, and the knowledge that Voldemort was waiting right behind his own eyes to take a bite out of Dumbledore had left him with a colossal headache, his scar throbbing continuously, and a desire to ask Hagrid to stick him in a sack and bury him.

But he'd settle for burying himself in bedclothes before it was even time for dinner.

Unfortunately, it soon became clear to him that he wasn't even going to get that. For no sooner had he gone halfway up the stairs than he heard two familiar voices in the sixth year boys' dorm, practically screaming at each other.

"You've got no right to talk about him that way!"

"He's dangerous, Ron, why can't you see that?"

"Yeah, yeah, last year he was dangerous because Voldemort wasn't coming back, now he's dangerous because he is—what's your problem? Scared of the old blighter's name? Well, I'm not!"

"I'm your brother!"

"Funny, you didn't act like it last year!"

"Why are you so determined to get yourself killed? Didn't what happened at the Ministry teach you anything?"

"Didn't it teach _you?_ Harry saved Dad's life!"

"And then you almost got brain-scrambled following him into trouble!"

"He needed my help!"

"Not that much apparently, I don't see why you and Ginny had to tag along—"

"Shut up! SHUT UP!"

"You-Know-Who might possess him, and you'll be the first one he goes after!"

"Percy, I know that! And I don't care! After everything that's happened to him…he needs us!"

"He's NOT…OUR…FAMILY!"

"YES, HE IS! HE'S MY BEST FRIEND IN THE WHOLE BLOODY WORLD, AND I'M NOT TURNING ON HIM AGAIN!"

"AND WHAT HAPPENS WHEN ONE OF US GETS HURT BECAUSE OF HIM! ARE YOU WILLING TO TRADE MUM OR DAD OR ONE OF US FOR YOUR FAMOUS FRIEND— _OW!_ "

" _SHUT UP!_ YOU STUPID PRAT, _SHUT UP!_ YOU'RE _JEALOUS_ , THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE!"

There was a long silence. "I am not jealous of Harry Potter."

"Harry's a better wizard and a better person than you'll ever be."

"You do care more about him than your family."

"That's not true!"

"Yes, it is!"

"Harry's part of our family now, Percy. We could no more throw him away than we could…Ginny, when Tom Riddle got her with his diary!"

"That's not the same."

"It is now. Mum and Dad love Harry as much as if he was one of our brothers. He's saved Dad's life and Ginny's life and my life more times than I can ruddy count!"

"But Ron—"

"FORGET it, Percy! If you can't accept Harry, then you may as well not accept me."

"Fine," said a quavering voice. "Fine, Ron. I see where your loyalties are."

"It's not about loyalty."

"Isn't it?"

"Perce, if your idea of my being loyal to you means giving up my best friend, then you really are just jealous!"

"I JUST WANT OUR FAMILY TO BE SAFE, IS THAT SO BLOODY HARD TO UNDERSTAND!"

" _VOLDEMORT'S_ GONE AND GOT LOOSE AGAIN, YOU BLOODY IDIOT, NOBODY IN THE WORLD IS SAFE! THAT'S NOT REASON ENOUGH FOR ME TO ABANDON HARRY!"

"Ron, you know it's not that simple. Not after what happened today. The whole bloody world isn't in danger of getting possessed by…him. Does this friend of yours matter so much that you'd give your family's lives?"

There was an even longer silence. And then… "I'd give him mine."

The hard edge of a stone stair impacted painfully on Harry's shins as he sank to his knees. _No. NO!_ Didn't Ron realize…Percy was _right_ …Harry wasn't worth…he heard someone heading for the door, leapt to his feet, and staggered back down the stairs into the common room, ignoring the startled looks of his Housemates. He'd just thrown himself into an armchair facing a bookshelf when he heard someone come quickly down the stairs—someone whose breath was hitching badly—and hurry out of Gryffindor Tower.

A few moments later, more feet came down the stairs, and he heard Ron's voice. "Hey, Katie, I need to talk to my sister. Can you have her come down?"

"Erm…you can come up with a seventh year prefect escorting you, if it's…private."

"Oh, all right then."

"Follow me."

As soon as they had gone, Harry headed back up to the dorm. Katie would probably tell Ron about Harry having been on the stairs, so Harry hoped he'd be asleep by the time Ron got back. With any luck Ron would be too embarrassed to—there were feet pounding up the stairs. Obviously luck just wasn't with Harry today. He dove into bed and shut his eyes as the door opened.

The footsteps slowed and came over next to him. "You know, mate, if you want people to think you're asleep, you should take your glasses off."

Harry sighed, sat up, and pulled off the covers so he could take off his shoes. "Guess I'll remember next time."

Ron sat down on the edge of Harry's bed. "How much did you hear?"

Climbing back under the blankets, Harry faced away from Ron. "Enough…Ron, Percy's right."

"Percy's… _what?_ Don't be stupid!"

"I am dangerous. You didn't see what happened in Dumbledore's office."

There was a long silence. "Blimey…did Voldemort possess you?"

"He might have. Every time I looked at Dumbledore, I felt Voldemort's hate, him wanting to…hurt him. I couldn't…it was like it was me that was feeling it."

The mattress shifted as Ron got up, then he went to his own bed so he was facing Harry again. "And Percy and Fudge saw?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. But Dumbledore told me to tell them how I knew about the goblins, so I had to admit I was getting inside Voldemort's head, then Fudge figured out that the opposite might happen."

"Damn, I'm starting to wish he really was as big an idiot as we'd thought," Ron muttered.

"At least he didn't find out it's already happened," Harry said dryly. "But with our luck this year, the whole bloody school'll get a demonstration before long. As it was, I couldn't look at Dumbledore the whole time."

"But Voldemort didn't possess you," Ron pressed.

"No," said Harry. "I just looked at the floor."

"Then obviously he can't get you that easily!"

"Ron! You…you don't understand!" Harry protested, half-burying his face in the pillow. He didn't trust his voice, but he had to make Ron see. "You and Ginny…and Hermione…and Professor Lupin and everyone else I care about…you're the first ones he'll go after if he gets me! And I don't know if I can stop him! You don't know what he's like!"

Ron folded his arms. "Well, you heard what I told Percy before—and I'm not repeating it because I'll be way too embarrassed." He grinned, trying to lighten the mood, and at any other moment, Harry would have grinned back. "Hermione was right about that article. We're all targets anyway. Even if my entire family stopped having anything to do with you from this day on, do you really think that'd stop Voldemort?"

"I…well…"

"Forget it, mate. The only way we're going to win this war is if we stick together. Hermione's right about that too; we all chose to be your friends."

"Hermione's right about everything, isn't she?"

"Don't tell me you're just now realizing that!"

* * *

 

Harry spent most of the weekend working furiously on his Specialized Defense homework. "At least the essay's interesting," he said to Ron as they sat around a table in the common room with several of the Gryffindor D.A. members.

"Kind of, but bloody _brutal!_ " Ron groused.

"Still better than these logic things she keeps giving us. What's the point, anyway?"

"Oh, honestly, you two," said Hermione. "Being an Auror isn't just about how fast you can throw hexes."

"Isn't it?" laughed Seamus.

"No!" Hermione scolded. "It's about knowing what to do and when to do it, being able to think fast and solve problems and be creative."

Harry thought back to what Professor McGonagall had told him during Career Advice, about character and aptitude tests. He pulled the parchment covered in random problems back over, frowning at it. Could this be the sort of thing she had meant? "What is it, Harry?" asked Neville. "Are you stuck?"

He frowned at the parchment. "I was just thinking of something Professor McGonagall said during Career Advice, about Auror training. She said we have to take character and aptitude tests, and demonstrate the ability to react well under pressure. And that there's lots more study and more exams after leaving Hogwarts."

Hermione cocked her head at him as though listening to something he wasn't saying. "You're really serious about this, aren't you? Becoming an Auror?"

"What else am I good for," Harry grumbled.

"That's not a good reason, Harry, you should choose something you really want to do!"

Harry waved her off. "I do want to be an Auror. It's just lucky I do."

"Don't say that!" Ron protested. "You're good at lots of things!"

"Like what?" he asked dryly, but started to grin.

Ginny, who was sitting in one of the armchairs studying Transfiguration with Bastet on her shoulder, said, "I'd wager you could play professional Quidditch, Harry. You're a terrific Seeker."

Harry set his essay aside. "Quidditch," he murmured thoughtfully.

"She's right, Harry, you'd have recruiters swarming you if word got out you wanted to play after Hogwarts," said Ron. "You don't _have_ to fight bad guys all your life, if you don't want to."

"I never really thought about playing all my life either," said Harry.

"Of all people, mate, you've earned it," Ron snorted.

"In any case," said Hermione. "What you all need to _earn_ right now is marks on this homework!"

"Yes, Professor Granger!"

"Oh, stuff it, Ron!"

Harry flipped vigorously through the Aurors section of the Life in Magical Law Enforcement textbook to distract himself from thoughts of hexing both of them. The essay assignment was a simple scenario:

**_An Auror receives a report that a wanted criminal wizard has been sighted at a house. He arrives on the scene to find the house apparently deserted. Write all possible first actions the Auror should take and briefly list the pros and cons of each, then indicate which response you would choose and why._ **

Hermione was reading the chapter on Basic Auror Procedures and counting her responses. "How many have you got?" he asked her.

She counted down her parchment. "Fourteen."

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" exclaimed Ron.

"Oh, give it here, Ron," she said irritably, taking his parchment. "You forgot about asking the neighbors if they've seen anything suspicious."

"How do we know there are any neighbors?" asked Neville.

Harry frowned at the parchment. "It doesn't say where this house is."

"Then should we assume there are neighbors?"

Hermione shrugged. "From what we've seen of Professor Smythe-Wellington so far, I'd err on the side of caution if I were you."

There were dry chuckles all around. "Good point," Harry agreed, and wrote: _Assuming there are other houses nearby, the Auror could ask neighbors if they have seen the criminal. Pros: this could give the Auror warning of the criminal's whereabouts, Cons: the neighbors could panic and warn the criminal that the Auror is there._

Ron was taking Hermione's advice as well. "She's not Umbridge by any means, but she's no picnic either."

"That much is certain."

* * *

 

First thing on Monday morning before N.E.W.T. Defense, Harry went to Professor Smythe-Wellington's office to turn in his overdue homework from the first class. That assignment alone had taken six hours, complete with Hermione checking it over for him, but in the end he was rather proud of it. Smythe-Wellington received it with a "hmph," and waved him out the door.

Harry was surprised to pass Mad-Eye Moody as he left. "Morning, Potter," Moody said, heading into Smythe-Wellington's office. Through the still partly-open door, Harry heard him bellow, "Priscilla Smythe, you gorgeous creature, you abandoned us for this madhouse?"

"Alastor, you sexy beast, come here!"

Harry was not the only student who stopped dead in his tracks in the hallway at hearing such an exchange—then went sprinting wildly for the stairs in a desperate effort _not_ to hear any more!

* * *

 

They had guests in N.E.W.T. Defense that day: a handful of Ministry Aurors, including Moody, and two members of the French Magical Assembly and some French Aurors. Ron, Dean, Neville, Susan Bones, and Michael Corner were telling the observers about the D.A. when Harry came in. "And, of course, it was Harry who did the teaching," Neville was saying proudly.

Moody nodded vigorously. "Good thinking, Potter, good planning last year. Want something done, got to do it yourself, when all's said. May save a lot of skins in the future. Probably already saved a few."

Harry felt his face getting hot as everyone's gazes fell on him. "Well…it was Ron and Hermione's idea, really."

"Modest lad," murmured someone, and he sighed inwardly.

Later, (when they were trying to make Harry feel better,) Ron and Hermione joked that it was really too much to expect that fate would not take this golden opportunity to give the visitors a classic example of Harry's connection to Voldemort. Halfway through class, when Professor Lupin had them in pairs doing basic duels with Stunners, Shields, and Disarming Spells, Harry got hit from behind (Malfoy and Blaise Zabini were the pair behind him) with a Disarming Spell right as Neville threw a Stunner at him.

* * *

 

The dilapidated sign for Knockturn Alley was directly across from Harry where he waited. Black-robed wizards were quietly moving into position ahead of him, their attention upon the small double-doors of a large stone building.

"We will be ready to strike at any moment, my lord," whispered the one nearest Harry.

"There will be no mistakes, Avery, or you will suffer for it," Harry said in a high, cold, cruel voice.

Avery flinched. "No mistakes, Master, I swear to you. Malfoy and the Lestranges will have the goblins' wards down in less than one minute."

Harry reached past the shivering man, wand in his long, thin fingers. "Make ready to move on my signal…"

* * *

 

"HARRY!" He was being shaken violently. "Harry, wake up!"

"What the devil is the matter with the boy?"

"He's had a vision! You-Know-Who's up to something!"

"Stand back, all of you, stand back! Harry?"

Harry forced his eyes open to see an anxious Remus Lupin hovering over him, gently shaking his shoulders. He struggled to find his voice as Lupin helped him sit up. "Voldemort…Knockturn Alley…attacking something…"

Lupin gripped his shoulders tightly, staring into his eyes with Moody just behind him. "What did you see, Harry? Quick—everything you remember!"

Harry shut his eyes. There wasn't much time; they were about to attack! He could feel Voldemort's anticipation in his prickling scar… "A Knockturn Alley sign with the paint flaking off…they're in a really narrow part of the alley that dead-ends with the side of a big stone building…light-colored…looks like some side or back entrance, the doors are half-sized. They said Malfoy and the Lestranges would bring the goblins' wards down…"

Moody straightened at once. "Goblins' entrance to Gringotts! Let's go!" There was a great pounding of feet toward the door as Harry dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his scar. His head was pounding fiercely in time to all the running footsteps.

"…Harry? Can you hear me?" He must have faded out again; he found himself slumped against Professor Lupin's shoulder. Someone was rubbing his back.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. "Head's…a little…light…"

"Here. Relax. Head between your knees, that's it," said Lupin, in a tone that reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley. "Breathe now. The Aurors have your warning; let them handle it. Concentrate on catching your breath."

"Did they…get 'em?"

"No word yet," said Hermione's voice behind him. "They've only just gone."

"Did you say a Malfoy was with them?" someone asked.

"Hey. Quiet there," said Lupin sternly. "There will be no discussion of Harry's warnings, in classrooms, hallways, or anywhere else. Anyone heard doing it will lose their House fifty points."

An appreciative intake of breath went up, although Harry heard Draco mutter, "What does it matter, Potter's barking anyway."

But Lupin was too busy worrying about Harry to hear it. "Do you need to go to the hospital wing, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, trying to get up. "No, I'll be fine."

"You're sure?" said Ron, holding out a hand in case Harry started to sway. "You look a bit more peaky than last time."

"I can't go to the hospital wing every bloody time this happens, or I might as well move in!" Harry said crossly.

Ron was unperturbed. "That'd make Madam Pomfrey happy."

With a chuckle, Professor Lupin satisfied himself that Harry wasn't going to keel over in the near future, and dismissed the class. But, predictably, he asked Harry to stay afterward. "Ron's right, Harry, you did seem a bit weaker after this vision."

Harry shrugged, going to inspect the grindylow that had been restored to its place of honor in the tank by Lupin's desk. "Maybe he was trying to Occlude _his_ mind to keep me from finding out—and it didn't work." He grinned over his shoulder. "So if I start bellowing and ranting like a madman, that probably means we got them."

Remus smiled, but came to Harry's side and said, "All the same, you must give Occlumency your full attention tonight. The value of these visions does not outweigh the risks to you of sharing Lord Voldemort's thoughts."

Harry frowned. He certainly didn't enjoy inhabiting the twisted mind of a monster whenever he lost consciousness, but on the other hand… "But we've lost Snape as a spy because of this summer. Shouldn't we find any way we can of learning what's going on?"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "You are not that way, Harry," said Remus in a stern voice that didn't distract Harry from the flicker of fear in his eyes. "You are not a weapon to be used against Voldemort without regard for your safety. Before Severus Snape returned to our side, Professor Dumbledore had ways of tracking Voldemort's movements. We will manage."

It made sense, of course, but Harry felt rebellious. This was the most useful thing he'd managed to do for the Order, aside from getting himself captured, Snape exposed, his uncle killed, Sirius killed—Remus caught his arm. "I know what you're thinking, Harry."

"So you're the Legilimens now?" Harry asked bitterly.

"It is _not_ your fault, what happened last summer. It is not your fault Severus was forced to expose himself. It is not your fault that your uncle was murdered. And it is not your fault that Sirius died in battle." Harry flinched and tried to pull away, but Remus would not let go. "You have _nothing_ to atone for."

Harry looked at Remus, and was startled by the intensity of the emotion in his eyes. He swallowed hard, and said quietly, "Neither do you."

* * *

 

In Care of Magical Creatures, Harry found himself at last unable to get out of taking a turn doing "the Daisy dance," as Seamus and Dean had taken to calling it. Actually, they were learning to feed, shelter, lead, and contain Daisy—which still required an extensive amount of dodging and scrambling like maniacs to get into her blind spot on days when she was ornery.

And she was always ornery.

Harry got through his first round of Chimaera care with only a few mild singes on the edge of his robe (and a badly-scorched ego—Ron thought it was hilarious), but was made more on edge by the fact that no word (by mouth or by scar) had come of what had happened in Knockturn Alley.

And so it was in a highly-unsettled state of mind that he trudged down to the dungeons for his Occlumency lesson after dinner. Professor Lupin was at the head table when Snape came up and barked at Harry, "Potter! My office, immediately!"

There was a loud snort from the Slytherin table as Harry got up. "Blimey, what'd the blighter do now?"

Harry cast a quick glance back at the head table as he trotted after Snape and saw Professor Lupin watching him. Dumbledore wasn't looking at them—probably to keep the illusion that Harry was being disciplined, Harry admitted to himself—but Remus's lips twitched in a barely-perceptible smile of encouragement. Harry sighed quietly as he trudged out of the Great Hall and down to the dungeons. Dumbledore might not care how Harry felt about this, but all Harry's bitterness and resentment couldn't push aside the awareness that Remus did. Remus understood how desperately Harry did _not_ want to face Occlumency with Snape again. And he was letting Harry know he understood, so that was something at least.

Snape's attitude seemed to grow colder along with the air as they moved down through the dampest stone corridors and staircases to the dungeons. He shoved open his office door so hard that it slammed against the wall and ordered, "Inside, Potter." He slammed the door closed behind Harry with equal force. "Sit down."

The way Harry had felt the first time he'd arrived in Snape's office for Occlumency lessons was nothing to the way he felt returning now. But it wasn't for reasons anyone else would expect; it wasn't because of the way he'd left, with Snape throwing things at him after he'd peeked in the Pensieve, or even the way Snape had treated Sirius. It wasn't even the events of the previous summer, and the undeniable debt he now owed to Snape. It was the thought that when Snape got back into Harry's head again, he'd be able to see Sirius fall through the veil.

And there was not a doubt in Harry's mind as he sank into the chair opposite Snape's desk, seeing the bitter resentment still simmering in the Potions Master's cold, black eyes, that Snape had every intention of doing exactly that.

_Hermione got it wrong. Snape wouldn't be more decent because of last summer…he hates me more than ever. I've lost him his job. He's as useless to the Order now as he said Sirius was._

"Under the headmaster's orders, Mr. Potter, you will be resuming your Occlumency training," Snape growled. "I assure you, it was not until the headmaster phrased it as an order that I acquiesced, after the way that you invaded my privacy and possessions during your last lessons." Harry bit his tongue against trying to defend himself, but Snape went on, "As they obviously failed to sink in last time, I will reiterate that you are to call me 'Professor' or 'sir' at all times." He paused significantly.

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, having expected that.

For a moment, Snape seemed surprised at Harry's reticence, but he plowed on, "Furthermore, some additional rules shall be established—and I promise you, Potter, if you cross me again, you will regret it. If anyone asks, you are serving detention with me for an infraction of the rules which you need not detail. Mr. Filch will collect you and escort you to the dungeons. You will _not_ be permitted to be in my office alone for any reason, as you cannot be trusted to keep your fingers out of others' belongings."

That also, Harry had expected, and he didn't react. Snape continued, "Mark my words, Potter. The headmaster may be convinced that your receiving these lessons is vital to the war effort, but if you step out of line in my office again, you will wish it had been _you_ dead at the Ministry last year."

Snape's sneer grew when Harry couldn't suppress a flinch, and Harry knew Snape would be milking that for all it was worth, even if he had—for some unfathomable reason—chosen to pretend that his rescue of Harry had never happened. Harry desperately wanted to run out of the room.

But something stopped him. He wasn't quite sure what; maybe it was Lupin's encouraging smile. Maybe it was what everyone said about how important the lessons were. Maybe it was how angry Sirius had been when he found out Snape had stopped them.

Maybe it was last summer.

In any case, Harry heard himself mutter, "Yes, sir." It did give him a little satisfaction to see Snape's genuinely puzzled expression. _What can you do to me that you haven't already done, you Death Eater? Do you think taking House points or even throwing me around your office again will matter with Sirius gone? Do you think you can intimidate me at school after I saw you using the Killing Curse?_

"Up, then, Potter. Wand out. You know what to do…or you should, if by some miracle your mind has gained some shred of discipline in the months since we last practiced this." Harry sighed. Last year, he'd found it impossible to detach himself from anger. Now, anger wasn't the problem. He wished it still was.

"One, two, three… _Legilimens!_ "

It was worse than Harry had feared; he couldn't clear his mind. All he could feel was dread and despair as the office vanished from in front of his eyes and images from memory took over his surroundings…

Everything he and Snape saw had happened in the past year. Blood ran down his hand as he wrote _I must not tell lies_ with Umbridge's detention quill…he was in Grimmauld Place, shouting at Ron and Hermione…he was before the Wizengamot, at his expulsion hearing, trying to explain the dementors…the dementor's mouth was only inches from Dudley's terrified face…the _Daily Prophet_ was calling him a liar…Voldemort's body was rising from Wormtail's cauldrom…

 _No,_ Harry thought desperately, his mind reeling as he struggled for control, _No, get out!_

His knees hit the floor of Snape's office with a jolt, and the world returned to normal. "Get up, Potter! That was worse than your first lesson, have you learned _nothing_ about controlling your mind?"

Picking himself up, Harry just muttered, "No, I guess not."

Snape gave him a little shove back into place. "Eyes closed." Harry obeyed with a sigh. "Breathe. Again. Deeper, Potter." Harry thought idly if this was Snape's idea of getting Harry to clear his mind or calm down, it wasn't working. Nevertheless, he tried to concentrate. "Focus. Clear your mind. Let go of emotion. One, two, three— _Legilimens!_ "

He tried. He really did. He knew Snape was only biding his time before going straight for the memories that would tear Harry apart—and not the ones from last summer. The memory of being tortured, humiliated, drugged, and locked in a tomb for months still did not hurt the way the Department of Mysteries did. So Harry struggled, trying to keep his mind clear and blank, to escape not only the attack from in front of him but the pain from behind him as the world dissolved…

The Dementor-Boggart swooping down on him and the sounds of his parents' final moments echoing in his ears… _no..._ He was in the body of a snake, diving and tearing and attacking Arthur Weasley… _No…_ Cedric Diggory on the ground with blank eyes staring at him… _NO!_...Sirius laughing at Bellatrix Lestrange on the dais in front of the arch and the veil…

 _"NOOOO!"_ Harry returned to the office as both of his fists connected with something heavy and covered with cloth in front of him—then Snape crashed to the floor with a surprised grunt. Blinking, Harry gaped in astonishment when he realized he had hit Snape.

Gritting his teeth and catching his breath, Snape untangled himself from the chair of his desk and shook his greasy hair out of his face. Harry, panting, his head throbbing, stumbled back a few feet. Then Snape looked up at him, the memory of the last few seconds of the duel still fresh in both their minds…and coldly smiled.

Something inside Harry cracked. He whirled around and sprinted with all his might for the office door, not giving Snape a chance to order him back. As he threw it open and flung himself out into the corridor, his pounding feet and heart still were not enough to drown out the snort of laughter that echoed behind him.

* * *

 

Ron and Hermione were talking to Professor Lupin, Professor McGonagall, and Mad-Eye Moody in the common room when Harry came in. "This is horrible," Hermione was whispering, her hands over her mouth.

"Professors, you'll make him understand, won't you?" Ron asked. "You know what he'll think, and he can't…Harry!" he exclaimed when the portrait hole swung shut behind Harry.

Harry knew immediately from their faces that the news was not good. The common room had been cleared. _Wonderful, a stellar ending to an already-bad day._ He swallowed thickly and walked over to them. "Well, here I am. What's happened?"

Moody's head was actually hanging. Harry swallowed harder. Remus looked as if he wanted to put an arm around Harry, and Professor McGonagall had tears in her eyes. Ron and Hermione were white-faced. "Harry…" said Remus softly.

Now he was downright scared. "Please," he whispered. "Whatever it is, just tell me?"

"The vision," Hermione blurted in a choked voice. "It was a fake!"

A great, cold lump of horror began to settle in Harry's insides and slowly spread outward. His heart was racing as though it wanted to pound out of his chest. He could barely speak. "Wh-what happened?"

"Ambush," grunted Moody, his head still lowered. "Outside the goblins' entrance of Gringotts in Knockturn Alley. They knew we'd be coming."

He was going to vomit. Any minute now.

Hermione let go of Ron's hand and grabbed Harry's shoulders. "It's not your fault!" she said desperately. "Don't blame yourself, Harry, we _all_ should have remembered Voldemort could send sham visions! Nobody thought to check, not even—" she broke off in dismay, looking at Moody.

Moody finally raised his head to look at Harry. "Girl's right, Potter. You're not to blame; you did just what you should—reported what you saw. It was our job to verify before we went charging off. No one to blame but us. Poor planning, poor thinking, people get…" he looked away.

He felt so very, very cold inside. "How many Aurors were hurt?" That had to be it, of course, there must have been serious injuries and damage for them to be reacting this way.

Moody would not look at him again and even Lupin and Professor McGonagall could not meet his eyes. Ron spoke up quietly. "Tell him the truth."

"Six in St. Mungo's with severe injuries," grunted Moody. "And three dead."

_Three dead…_

Ron had a hand on one of Harry's shoulders, Remus on the other as Harry swayed on his feet. With an effort, he got his balance back, though he kept his own hand on the bookshelf next to him. "It's not your fault, Harry," Hermione said again, her voice shaking.

He had to swallow several times before he trusted himself not to vomit right there when he opened his mouth. "Thanks…" his voice cracked badly. "For telling me. I'm…I'm…sorry…"

"You've got nothing to apologize for, Harry," said Remus. "It was our responsibility to verify the truth of what you saw, not yours. No matter what happens, never, never hesitate to warn us if you have another vision. And when your Occlumency lessons progress a little further you'll stop having to worry about him using you this way—"

Harry gasped and grabbed his forehead; his scar must have burst into flames…how terribly humorous all this was…maniacal laughter was ringing in his ears, laughter of triumph and mirth…what a fine joke…how priceless…

"HARRY! HARRY, WAKE UP!"

Someone was shaking him so violently that his teeth were rattling, and that brought him back to the common room. He had fallen to his knees; Remus and Ron were holding him up, and Professor McGonagall and Hermione were on either side of Mad-Eye Moody, holding his arms as though afraid Moody would attack Harry.

"Voldemort?" asked Remus when Harry managed to make the foreign laughter stop.

He nodded, unable to keep from looking at Moody. For once, the look in both the old Auror's eyes matched. As toughened as Harry knew Mad-Eye Moody to be, he had never imagined the man capable of looking at someone with so much hate. Harry had faced off with Voldemort five times now…but the look in Moody's face made him flinch away. "What's the bloody bastard laughing about now?"

"This," Harry mumbled, starting to shiver. "It was…different. I think…it wasn't me going into his mind, it was…him coming into mine. He wanted us to know…he's laughing at us." _He's laughing at me._ _He got me again._ "I'm sorry," he said miserably.

"Told you, boy, it's not your fault," Moody muttered, his face softening a little.

Harry got up. He couldn't stand the way they were all looking at him. "Are you all right, Potter?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I'll be fine…I just need…" He ran up the stairs to the dormitory. Once there, the stares of the other boys told him that everyone knew what his false alarm had cost, and Harry staggered to the bathroom to be sick.

 _Three dead Aurors._ He hadn't even thought to ask who they were.

He was so ill that he barely noticed when Ron and Neville came and found him lying on the bathroom floor, shivering violently, and he didn't even care when they practically had to carry him back to his bed. Having six siblings had apparently taught Ron a few things, for Harry was dimly aware of him dragging Harry's shoes off and bundling him under the covers.

He vaguely heard Neville's voice. "Don't even _think_ about it, Finnegan!"

"I'm not gonna do anything! Relax, I know it wasn't his fault. He can't help what You-Know-Who does."

Hearing the bed curtains being pulled shut, Harry muttered, "Ron?"

The curtains rattled as Ron pulled them open again. "Yeah, mate?"

"The Aurors who were killed. Who were they?"

"Nobody we knew."

"I want to know anyway."

"Joseph Sloper. He's Jack Sloper's cousin. Moira Kennedy. She was a class ahead of Tonks. And Gregory Stein. He and Moody trained together."


	10. Fallout

There was no hiding the fact that Harry's vision had been false. Too many students (or rather, too many Slytherins) had heard his warning, and when the _Daily Prophet_ reported the ambush the following day, too many more made the connection. Even Professor Lupin's threat of lost House points could not stop the stares and whispers at breakfast.

Harry had not slept at all that night after it happened. The initial shock had eventually given way to an utter terror of falling asleep, of having another vision that could prove a trap. He had sat up in bed with the curtains closed, trying to do homework or anything else that would keep him awake. Each time he felt himself starting to drift off, panic set in and made him alert again.

And so the next morning, he was drowsily picking at his eggs, still determined not to sleep again until he could properly Occlude his mind. (How he was to accomplish that, he did not know, but logic had never been Harry's strong point, as those infuriating puzzles of Smythe-Wellington's frequently demonstrated.)

It didn't help overhearing Malfoy at the Slytherin table. "I can't understand why people are surprised. Potter throws a bloody fainting act and starts accusing people's parents of chasing goblins around Gringotts— _I_ knew better than to believe him! And did anyone see my father there? Of course not!"

"Harry," said Hermione, watching him stare at his plate. "You've got to eat something. Did you sleep last night?"

"Hermione, leave the man alone," said Ron, patting Harry's shoulder.

"How's Sloper?" Harry asked quietly.

The pained look on Ron's face told Harry more than his words. "He's…in a bit of shock, you understand. His parents are coming to get him today. I…er, well…he's in a bit of shock, you understand, it might not be a good idea to go talk to him just now."

Harry nodded, knowing bitterly what Ron meant. Jack blamed Harry. Harry didn't blame him. He'd felt so proud after Dumbledore had stopped Voldemort's goblin spell—how had they done that, anyway? He had no idea. But the important thing was that he hadn't even stopped to think that the vision might not have been true.

Ron was saying something. Harry blinked back to the present. "Sorry?"

Patiently, Ron repeated, "We thought we'd do some Quidditch practice after Charms this afternoon. Tryouts are Thursday."

Oh. Quidditch. Right. And it would give him something to do where no matter how tired he was, he wouldn't risk falling asleep. Harry forced a smile at Ron and nodded. "I'll be there. Lord knows I'm probably out of practice."

On the other side of the table, Ginny snorted. "Don't be absurd, Harry, you're a natural. You're never out of practice."

"Still gonna make him work for Seeker, aren't you, Gin-gin?" Ron teased. Ginny smirked at him as Bastet crawled out of her book bag onto her shoulder. "Ahh, there is my fuzzy little monster-killer!" Ron cooed, to Harry's complete astonishment. "Does oo wanna spot of breakfast? Does oo wanna bit of bacon?"

Ginny giggled and took the bacon Ron handed her for the kitten, who was growing rapidly but still managed to balance on her mistress's shoulder. Hermione looked disgusted. "This from the boy who said all cats were bloodthirsty beasts."

"I've changed my mind," Ron declared. "Either cats are indeed noble creatures, and yours is just a slavering maniac, or this one's just a true goddess."

Ginny watched Bastet leisurely polishing off the bacon and shook her head. "She's so odd. She was perfectly sweet-tempered with me in Transfiguration yesterday—even though I was turning her only halfway into a tea pot. Then Ella Collins from Slytherin started making fun of my textbook—the cover's falling off—and Bastet went straight for her face. I thought Professor McGonagall was going to explode. She had to switch to a cat herself to call Bastet off! Collins has scratches all over her!"

"Brilliant! Two pieces of bacon!"

* * *

 

Professor Lupin asked Harry to linger for a few moments after Advanced Curse Defense. "Did you sleep last night, Harry?"

Fighting (and losing) against a surge of irritation, Harry shook his head. "I don't want him using me again."

"Harry, you cannot deprive yourself of sleep over this. That will only make you more vulnerable." Remus put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't blame yourself for what happened."

"Jack blames me."

"Jack has lost a family member; he blames everyone in sight, including himself."

Harry shot to his feet, frustrated and angry. "How could I forget?" he cried. "After what happened to Sirius, how could I let myself forget that those visions can be lies?"

Remus ignored his outburst. "You went through a terrible ordeal this summer. You can't be expected to remember everything. That was our job."

"But…" Harry sank back down again. "There was no summer! At least…not to me. It still feels as if it's been only a few weeks since…" he looked away. "And I forgot."

"If you allow it to tear you apart, you'll be giving Voldemort what he wants." Harry blinked. Remus pulled a chair up beside him. "Think, Harry. About last night, not the vision in the morning. Why did Voldemort let you feel his laughter at us?"

"To let me know he'd won. That he'd got the better of me," Harry said in confusion.

"Exactly. To make you afraid to sleep, to keep you off balance—and out of his mind," Remus said urgently. "Harry, don't you see? Yes, he can send you false visions—but obviously he cannot keep you entirely out of his own mind. Otherwise you would not have been able to warn us of the goblin spell."

With a disgusted groan, Harry put his head in his hands. "Fool me once, shame on you, fool me tw—"

"Harry! If you don't stop that, I'm going to start taking points from Gryffindor."

"Sorry."

Remus shook his head. "What class do you have next? Charms?"

Harry nodded. "Then Herbology after that."

"As soon as they're over, I want you to pick up some Dreamless Sleep potion from Madam Pomfrey and then go to your dormitory and get some sleep—don't argue, Mr. Potter, this is coming from your Professor now. Voldemort's activities are taking enough of a toll on you without your adding to it."

"I wasn't arguing," Harry grumped. "I mean…it's just…we had Quidditch practice this afternoon."

Remus sighed. "I think you'd best give it a miss today, if you're as worn out as my instincts and your charming mood seem to indicate. Or at least try to sleep a little beforehand."

"Yes, Professor," said Harry, suddenly too tempted by the thought of a non-haunted sleep to resist anymore.

Remus patted his arm. "Off with you, then."

Harry started to get up, then paused. He had been thinking about this all morning, and the idea seemed mad—not to mention unpleasant—but Harry was willing to deal with a little unpleasantness if it would get Voldemort out of his head. "Professor…I was wondering…do you think it would help if I did Occlumency more often? Would I get any better at keeping him out?"

Remus paused on the steps to his office, his face thoughtful. "Hm. I don't imagine it could hurt." He eyed Harry and smiled. "Of course, you would have to ask Professor Snape for additional lessons." His smile grew broader as Harry groaned loudly. "It's a reasonable thing, Harry, for you to ask and for him to agree."

Harry sighed, but smiled sheepishly back. "I'll need another excuse, then."

"Don't take that tone with me, Mr. Potter, detention for you this evening! Wait, oh dear, I seem to have acquired a previous engagement," Remus said blithely. "I shall have to ask Professor Snape to supervise your punishment." Harry couldn't suppress a hysterical giggle. "Of course, once you're in 'detention,' it will be up to you to ask for the lessons. Deal?"

"Deal," Harry laughed.

"Right, then. Get some sleep, and I'll see you at dinner."

"Okay."

* * *

 

Harry managed to get through his Charms and Herbology without making too great a mess of things—although he did manage to turn his notebook into a slime mold. On the way back to Gryffindor Tower, he told Ron he would be skipping Quidditch practice. "But we haven't got much time till tryouts! We already postponed them once, and the team's done for without you!"

"Oh, thanks, Ron!" snapped Ginny from behind them.

"No offense, Ginny, but it's true! We need you to replace Angelina or Alicia—and a Beater to replace Jack."

Harry paused on the stairs. "He's quit?"

Ron nodded, "Yeah, he, uh, said he didn't like it much last year."

"Is that what he said?" Harry sighed.

Ginny nudged Ron aside so she could walk next to Harry. "Don't take it personally, Harry—and don't believe it either. I told Jack he wasn't being fair, but I don't think he's really interested in being fair at the moment. He'll come round eventually, and if he doesn't, well, we'll find another Beater."

Harry sighed. Ron looked back at them. "Say, Harry, maybe if you go to sleep right away, you can at least make part of practice, just for a little Snitch-chasing."

"Then he'll have to skip the afternoon study session," said Hermione.

At that moment, Harry had to stop and lean against the banister so he could yawn heavily. "I think I'll be missing that anyway."

"And he can always study this evening," Ron pressed.

"Er…no, I've got…detention," said Harry.

Hermione dropped her book bag on Ron's foot—causing him to fall onto the stairs with a screech of agony—and spun around. "Harry, _what_ did you do now? Who'd you get detention from this time?"

Ron lugged the book bag off his foot and looked at Harry expectantly. Harry looked at them and felt a rush of mischief. "Oh…I got detention from Professor Lupin."

Their reaction was even better than he'd hoped.

_"HARRY!"_

"What on earth did you _do!"_

"How _could_ you, are you _determined_ to—"

They all broke off as he started to laugh. "Yes, Professor Lupin assigned me detention, but he's going to be busy tonight, so he's asking Professor Snape to take care of it. Perfect opportunity for more 'Remedial Potions.'"

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all gaped at him for several more seconds before it sank in. "Oh, you!" Ginny clouted Harry upside the head, then they all started to laugh.

"Why do you have…detention again tonight?" asked Hermione. "Didn't you have it last night too?"

"Under the circumstances," Harry muttered at her, "I decided I'd better have it more often."

"With Snape," Ron groaned. "You are truly a glutton for punishment, Harry."

"No pun intended?" Ginny teased, and they all groaned louder.

When they got to the dormitory, Harry told Ron, "I'll sleep through study session, and see about practice."

"Priorities, Harry," sighed Hermione, coming up the stairs.

"Leave him alone, Hermione, he deserves a little fun!"

"Failing all his classes could end that fun pretty quick—"

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled out his Firebolt—

His Firebolt. From Sirius.

Ron by now had stopped arguing with Hermione and had pulled his Cleansweep out from under his bed. "We've got to elect a new captain, and try out some new team members, Harry. I fancy you'll be up, and we've got to decide what to do about you and Ginny—Harry? What's wrong?"

Harry didn't hear him. He was staring at his Firebolt: its glittering handle, the way it vibrated when he picked it up and hovered in midair when he let go, the registration number engraved in gold at the top of the handle, and the streamlined birch twigs, all still as perfect and flawless as when it had arrived on Christmas morning nearly three years before. It had been right after his beloved Nimbus had been destroyed by the Whomping Willow, the perfect Christmas present.

From Sirius.

Apparently, Ron and Hermione had made the connection. Hermione's hands came to rest on his shoulders as Ron gently took the broom away. "Harry? You all right, mate?"

Harry blinked and looked up at them. "Yeah. Sorry. Go on. I'll see you later."

Hermione stayed where she was. "I can stay if you want, Harry. If you're worried about sleeping, I mean."

"Oh, you'll neglect your precious studies for _him_ , will you?"

"Ronald…" she said in a hard tone. Ron looked ashamed of himself.

Harry shook his head. He just wanted a nap. "No. 's all right. I've got Dreamless Sleep potion."

"Okay, then." Hermione gave his shoulders a little squeeze and started for the stairs. "Harry?" He looked at her. "I think you're doing the right thing. With…detention." She smiled. "You can beat Voldemort at this, we know you can. And after all the times you've gone up against Voldemort, you can certainly handle Snape."

Ron nodded vigorously, and Harry forced a smile. "Thanks." He waved at them as they went back down the stairs, then crawled into bed, took a gulp of potion, and fell gratefully asleep.

* * *

 

"…Harry?"

Someone was shaking him gently. He grumbled and tried to burrow into the pillow, but the hand on his shoulder persisted. Rolling over, he opened his eyes and glared at Ron. "'f I had my wand, I'd hex you."

"Sorry," said Ron, not looking terribly apologetic. "Coming to Quidditch practice?"

Now that he was fully awake, Harry did feel more rested than he had in some time. And it had been ages since he'd even flown on his Firebolt. "Yeah, I'll come. Grab my uniform, would you?" He went to the bathroom to put some water on his face.

When he came back out, Ginny was there in her uniform, talking to Ron. "If those two even _think_ about messing up our first practice I will hex them into next month!" Ron was snarling.

"What two?" asked Harry.

"Fred and George are here," Ginny told him. "They're getting ready to sit their N.E. , and managed to wheedle Madam Hooch into letting them help us with practice."

"Their N.E.W.T.s?" Harry asked in surprised. "How's that possible?"

"Oh, I should show you that in the diary," Ron chuckled. "Mum went to Dumbledore, asking if there was some way Fred and George could finish—of course, she didn't ask _them_ first. We didn't expect anything to come of it, but then Mum showed up at the shop one day when Hermione and I were there and told us Dumbledore'd said they could do it. Fred and George weren't so keen to at first, but then Mum really went below the belt—she said she and Dad didn't raise us to be quitters."

"Aah!" Harry grimaced sympathetically.

Ginny nodded. "So here they are. They take shifts at the shop and come here twice a week. They'll be finished right before Christmas holidays."

"Well, that's nice," said Harry. "Your mum will be pleased."

"She's ecstatic," Ron snorted. "Blubbered all over them. I think the main reason they agreed is Percy's still being a prat, and it's making Mum crazy."

"A prat? How?"

"Aside from that little snit you overheard? Well, he's talking to us again at least, but he still won't come home," said Ginny, sighing. "He just keeps saying it's not a good idea. We don't know where the Ministry's got him stashed, but Mum is convinced it's not safe enough."

"Not as safe as Headquarters, no doubt, but imagine trying to get Percy there!" Ron remarked. "Oy, Ginny, turn your back. Harry, get your uniform on."

"Oh, right."

Harry had his shirt half-off before Ron added, "No peeking, Ginny!"

Harry froze, his back to them, but heard Ginny say in a huff, " _You_ may enjoy being a Peeping Tom, Ron, but not everyone is a complete cad. Hurry along, Harry."

It was only then that it dawned on Harry that he was in the midst of stripping his clothes off in the same room as a _girl!_ He couldn't get into his uniform fast enough. "Okay, let's go."

He picked up his Firebolt with reverent hands and followed them to the stairs. Carrying it, his mind wandered as they walked out onto the grounds, back to Sirius, inevitably. He had been dismal when he had told Sirius about the lifetime ban from Quidditch over Christmas. " _Now don't think for a minute that old Umbridge's so-called 'lifetime ban' will stick, Harry,"_ Sirius had said _. "Once people find out that you have been telling the truth—and they will once Voldemort makes himself known, believe me—you'll be vindicated and she and Fudge will have a lot of questions to answer about the way they've treated you."_

 _"But do you think a ban like that could be reversed?"_ Harry had asked bitterly.

_"Of course it can. And no matter what it takes, Voldemort be damned, I'll make it to your next game. Don't gape! Remember your third year? I've done it before!"_

_"I'd forgotten,"_ Harry had laughed. _"It was right before the dementors got me on the field."_

 _"I'll never forget that. I nearly switched to myself and ran out onto the field—which would've resulted in me getting my charming personality sucked out,"_ Sirius had grimaced at the memory. Seeing Harry's glum expression, he had smiled and said _, "Don't fret on it too much."_

 _"It seems silly to 'fret' on it at all with everything that's happened,"_ Harry had sighed.

 _"Don't be silly. I know Quidditch is important to you; you've got the right to enjoy growing up,"_ Sirius's face had turned solemn _. "And I promise you, Harry, once this is all over, I'll come and see you play in person. And I'll be sitting in the stands cheering so bloody loud you won't hear a single Slytherin!"_

_"That'd be brilliant, Sirius! I can't wait."_

_"It will happen, Harry. My word as a Marauder on it. So keep your chin up."_

"…Harry? Harry?"

Harry blinked back to the present. He was standing at the entrance to the Quidditch pitch with his Firebolt in hand, no idea how he had gotten there. Ron and Ginny were mounted on their brooms, glancing back at him. "Are you ready?" Ginny asked. Seeing his blank face, she said patiently, "We're going to have some practice rounds. Ready?"

Harry shook his head hard. "Yeah, sorry. All right. Let's go." He kicked off and followed them into the air.

To Harry's relief, the months and months he had gone without flying had not dampened his skill too terribly much—though the Firebolt felt a good deal faster than he remembered. Still, after about twenty minutes of tentative flying, he was swooping and diving around the pitch, laughing deliriously—and getting yelled at by Ron, who wanted to get on with the practice rounds.

Even better was the fact that this wound up being a Slytherin-free practice. The mood was light and cheerful as the team members reacquainted themselves with each other and their strategies. Katie Bell was the oldest member this year, but things were complicated by the fact that she did not want to be captain.

"I'm a follower, not a leader," she insisted when they all landed for a huddle. "Give me a strategy and a plan and I can do it, and I can judge Chasers, but Keepers and Beaters and the rest?" She shook her head. "No, it'll have to be someone else."

Every pair of eyes turned to Harry. "Er…" He felt his face turning red. Why on earth would they want _him_ to be captain? He managed to get himself injured or banned almost every year! "I dunno…" he muttered, looking at the sand beneath his feet. "I…er…maybe we should wait until…a few more practices."

Every Weasley on the pitch was grinning at him. "Have it your way, Ickle Harrykins," said one of the twins, who were there under the guise of "supervising" practice. "But don't think you'll get out of it so easily in the end."

Ron looked annoyed.

* * *

 

That night, as dinner wound to a close, Harry found himself suffering a severe loss of nerves. "What was I thinking?" he muttered. "Why am I putting myself in Snape's clutches voluntarily?"

"Courage, mate," Ron muttered back, giving him a thump on the back. "Courage."

"It'll help in the long run, Harry," Hermione whispered. "Just be patient!"

He rolled his eyes at her. "Easy for you to say."

"Hey, be fair; Hermione's not exactly Snape's favorite person either!" said Ron.

Harry saw Professor Lupin getting up at the head table. "Here it comes."

Lupin looked so stern when he walked over to the Gryffindors that Harry gulped, half-wondering if he _had_ gotten himself into trouble. "Come with me, please, Mr. Potter." Around him, his Housemates sucked in their breath. He timidly got to his feet and followed Lupin out of the Great Hall.

Once they were down in the dungeons, away from curious eyes, Remus winked at Harry before knocking on Professor Snape's office door. "Enter."

Snape looked quite startled to see the two of them. Harry gulped, fighting the urge to hide behind Lupin. "Severus, Mr. Potter is scheduled for a detention this evening, but I'm afraid I'm unable to supervise him. Would you mind?" asked Lupin smoothly.

His eyes narrowed, Snape looked from Lupin to Harry, then said slowly, "Very well." Remus gave a gracious half-bow and left the office, closing the door behind him. Snape rose and came from behind his desk, staring hard at Harry. "Well, Potter?"

Harry's mouth was frustratingly dry. He swallowed thickly and said, "Professor…I wanted to ask…if you—if I—could do Occlumency more often. I mean…as often as possible, really." He forced himself to meet Snape's eyes. "After what happened yesterday, this has to stop. I thought having the lessons more often might help."

Snape was silent for several minutes, and Harry managed not to fidget or drop his gaze. At last, the Potions Master sneered, "Well, if no other good has come from yesterday's debacle, you've finally had the consequences of your arrogance drummed into your worthless head."

What did arrogance have to do with any of this! _Ignore it, ignore it, he's just being Snape. This is more important than you or him!_ Harry told himself furiously. Through clenched teeth, he ground out, "I just…want it…to stop. Will you help me, or won't you?" Like an afterthought, he added, _"Sir."_

It clearly amused Snape to have Harry Potter admitting to needing additional help, but Harry supposed that was to be expected. _Hermione's right. I've been face-to-face with Voldemort. I can handle you._ He gritted his teeth, but finally got Snape's answer. He probably should have expected that too. _"Legilimens!"_

Harry saw the look of mingled surprise and fear on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face…

 _No…concentrate…concentrate…_ He fought to see the office and Snape and concentrate on them rather than the memory…

Sirius was falling through the ancient doorway, his body curving gracefully…

 _Come on…get away…_ Snape was staring at Harry's face, muttering…concentrating…

Sirius disappeared behind the veil, and it fluttered as though in a high wind—

 _"NOOOO!"_ Harry crashed to the floor and curled into a ball instinctively, trying to hide from the memory that was now re-playing itself viciously before his eyes. "STOP IT!"

"Stop it yourself, Potter! _Legilimens!_

The veil fell back into place…Sirius did not reappear…

"STOP IT!" Harry kicked out furiously and got Snape in the shin, making him stumble back. He scrambled to his feet, trying to get his heart under control, and wishing the hand holding his wand would stop shaking.

Snape was still smirking. Harry glared at him, trembling. Last year had been bad enough when he'd had so much anger to contend with, now it was all he could do to keep the memory of Sirius from overwhelming him completely. In an almost-cheerful voice, Snape said, "You'll have to do better than that, Potter. One…two…three… _Legilimens!_ "

The red light of Bellatrix Lestrange's curse hit Sirius right in the chest before his laughter had even died…

 _STOP IT!_ Harry fought to keep his eyes on Snape's face, but he felt as though his heart were being torn out at the same time as his brain. And his heart seemed more valuable. _STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!_

His godfather's eyes widened in shock…but he could see Snape muttering…

 _Oh Sirius, I'm sor—Wand, WAND!_ _"Expelliarmus!"_

Snape's wand flew from his hand, and Harry found himself gasping and shaking—and his vision was horribly blurry. He wiped frantically at his eyes, but not before Snape straightened himself up and saw it. "Tears again, Potter?" he sneered, drawling out the words with relish.

Harry turned away. Why couldn't he stop shaking! "Is this lesson over, _sir_ , or shall we keep going?" he snapped.

"Face me. Now."

Harry did, clenching his jaw to keep it from trembling. Snape's voice was stern, disciplinarian, but Harry was certain he could see flat-out glee in his eyes. _I hate you I hate you I hate you…_

"Have you retained _nothing_ I taught you last year?" asked Snape coldly. "For all your pathetic whimpering, you have made yourself more vulnerable to the Dark Lord than ever, and an even greater liability to our side, considering all the plans and efforts you've already managed to bollix up. Do you think _he_ will leave your pitiful grief for that mongrel alone—"

Harry snapped. "SHUT UP! You bloody bastard, _SHUT UP!_ "

Snape lunged toward him so fast that for a split-second, Harry expected to find himself flying across the room with a broken jaw. Instead, the Potions Master grabbed him by the shoulders. "I warn you, Potter—"

Harry wrenched away. "Don't lecture me about control of my emotions, you stupid _fraud!_ You're not choosing that memory because of Voldemort, you're choosing it because you enjoy it!" he shouted. At Snape's momentary silence, Harry lashed out harder. "I'm surprised you haven't gone for that night in his headquarters and made me relive getting tortured. Or is it because you'd enjoy that too much to stand? Is that it? You'd die laughing watching all your old mates putting the Cruciatus Curse on me?"

He saw Snape falter; for the first time, he'd struck a nerve. He drove the blow home, desiring to make Snape see how it felt to have his nose rubbed in his nightmares. "What's the matter, _Death Eater,_ you enjoy hurting people so much—why don't you take a peek?"

He saw Snape raise his wand, but aimed his own at the man's chest. "Tell me this is about Occlumency, _Professor_ ," he hissed, his voice shaking with fury this time. "Tell me you're not just amusing yourself watching my godfather die over and over again." His voice cracked when he said it, but he was angry enough not to care. "Is it the time on your hands now? I remember—you said finding out what _Voldemort_ said to his Death Eaters was your _job!_ Well, you're out of that job, now, aren't you? And that's my fault, of course, that's what this is all about! You're not the big, important spy anymore, you're as trapped as Sirius was! And that's my fault, right! And what Sirius and my dad did when they were fifteen was my fault too, wasn't it?"

Harry had never imagined himself capable of feeling this way. An odd, mirthless grin was spreading across his face as Snape stared dumbly, and he rambled on, "I'm curious, _Professor:_ which one did you hate more? My dad or Sirius? Does it matter, as long as I look like James Potter and Sirius Black is my godfather, I'm a convenient substitute for either, aren't I? I remember, 'revenge is sweet,' isn't it? Even if it's only on a replacement. Or…was it neither of them? Maybe it was my mother you hated, because she stood up for you, and because you can't say she was arrogant, can you? You can't deny that 'Mudblood' who tried to help you was everything you'll never be, can you?" Barely pausing to draw breath, Harry screamed out. "WHICH PART OF ME DO YOU HATE MOST, _SNIVELLUS_ _! MY FATHER'S FACE OR MY MOTHER'S EYES!_ "

Snape's face was dead white, reminiscent of the rage Harry had seen when he'd come out of the Pensieve, but there was something else there too, this time. Harry was too hysterical himself to identify what it was. He just wished Snape would hex him or hit him or _something_ , instead of—Snape disappeared.

So did the office…

* * *

 

He was seated in a dark, curtained room lit by a single branch of candles. His long, white fingers were knitted together as two men in black robes dragged a third man, clad in a gray, Muggle-style suit, into the pool of light cast by the candles. They forced him to his knees.

Harry stood up. "Look at me," he ordered the third man. As if he had no power to refuse, the man raised his head. He was young, and could have been called handsome anywhere but here; the terror was so intense in his wild eyes and pasty face that Harry could practically smell it.

"Wh-who…are…you!" the young man rasped. "Wh-what do y-you want with me?"

In a voice no less cruel, but rather coldly amused, Harry said, "With you personally, nothing. You are here as a matter of convenience."

"Wha—"

Before the man had a chance to speak again, Harry looked into his eyes, ignoring his choked sobs, and then through them, seeking information. He saw a white, domed building, bright and dazzling against the night sky, then brightly-lit hallways crowded with people, all of whom appeared to be Muggles, and a flag hanging in a doorway, an American flag, and more hallways, sloping downward, seeming to go underground…

* * *

 _POW!_ A hand slapped Harry's face so hard that his jaw rattled, and his ears began ringing. He swung one arm instinctively, but someone caught his wrist, and he gasped. He'd been in that room before, but then he'd seen someplace else…

 

"POTTER!"

Harry gasped. Snape was standing over him, still white-faced, still furious, and memory came flooding back. He sat up. "I saw—"

"I _know_ what you saw, stupid boy." Snape was shaking with anger.

Harry gritted his teeth, remembering, too late the reason he'd come to Snape's office in the first place. _Gone and blown it now, haven't I?_ he thought bitterly as the first twinges of shame started to creep in. But there wasn't time now. "I don't know if it was real or not, but we have to tell someone—"

"Shut up, Potter," Snape snapped. " _I_ will report this new…vision of yours. _You_ will remain here."

"But how did you see it?" Harry protested. Snape turned to him with the faintest sneer, and waved his wand toward Harry's head. _Oh._ Harry was too rattled by the dream to be angry now that Snape had been poking around his unconscious mind.

"You will remain in my office, and you will disturb _nothing,_ Potter, or so help me, you will wish the Dark Lord _had_ killed you," Snape growled. "Now stay here and keep quiet." He stalked out the door.

Silence came crashing down around Harry, leaving his mind far too free to think. And to remember. He sank to the floor in front of Snape's desk, drew his knees up to his chest, and started to shake. Why, why, why did it have to have happened now? Why here, right in front of Snape?

And how was Harry any better than Snape after the things he'd said? When he'd _enjoyed_ it?

He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard footsteps coming back toward the door, but he scrambled to his feet as it opened to reveal Professor Dumbledore, trailed by Lupin and Snape. Harry felt himself cringe.

"Severus told us about your vision, Harry," said Dumbledore.

Swallowing hard, Harry nodded. "I don't know if it's real or not."

Lupin smiled at him. "Let us determine that. Are there any details you recall specifically?" Snape, behind Lupin, visibly bristled, as though offended that they were asking Harry at all.

Harry tried to remember everything he could. "The man they took…he wasn't British…the way he talked…I think he's American. His accent. And I saw an American flag in…wherever they were. What happened?" he asked in confusion.

Dumbledore said, "Lord Voldemort was penetrating the prisoner's mind, Harry. You were seeing the prisoner's memories."

"That explains why I didn't recognize that place," Harry mused.

"If the domed building was the U.S. Capitol, then the corridors were probably the underground tunnels," said Lupin, "where the American Wizarding Congress keeps its offices." Seeing Harry and Snape's confused expressions, he explained, "I've been there. Once."

"But the man looked like a Muggle," Harry said. "He wasn't dressed like a wizard, and I didn't see any wizards there."

Lupin nodded. "American wizards tend to follow Muggle fashions, for they mingle much more closely with them. The American Wizarding Congress works in the same building as their Muggle Congress. Hiding in plain sight, as it were."

"So this time he will target the United States," murmured Dumbledore.

"This time?" Harry asked carefully.

Dumbledore nodded in Harry's direction, keeping his eyes just over Harry's shoulder. "The Americas were largely left out of the last war, Harry. Lord Voldemort concentrated his efforts upon wizarding Europe. For that reason, it will be difficult to convince them to take action against him."

"And that, of course, is the reason he's doing it," concluded Lupin with a sigh. "We'll have to get in touch with their ambassadors."

"Immediately, Remus," Dumbedore agreed. He smiled at Harry and Snape. "Thank you for bringing this to our attention right away, Severus. We'll let the two of you return to your lesson."

Harry and Snape both reacted the same way: they gaped.

 _He knows,_ Harry realized with a sinking feeling as Dumbledore slipped out the door and smiled once more at them both. _He knows everything that happened._

The door fell shut with a hollow thud. Harry's heart made a similar noise. He didn't dare look at Snape. _What now?_ "What now, sir?" he heard himself mutter.

"You heard the Headmaster; the American wizarding authorities will be notified."

Harry took a deep breath. "That wasn't what I meant. I…want to keep trying."

Snape made a disgusted noise. "I don't especially care what you want, Potter."

"I know," Harry said quietly. "But it still has to be done." There was no answer. "He's watching. Always. He'll keep watching until I can block him."

His heart sank further as the silence went on, convincing him that Snape would see the whole wizarding world destroyed before he taught Harry anything ever again. But then, in the heavy silence of the dungeons, he heard Snape's voice, speaking in a low growl. "Take out your wand. Clear your mind."

It was all he could do not to gasp with relief. He didn't answer, but stood with his wand ready and concentrated on letting go of emotion—and wished he could do so permanently.


	11. Progress?

It was nearly lights-out by the time Harry dragged himself out of the dungeons. He'd felt worse, no doubt, in his various encounters with Voldemort, but tonight he was aching in places he wouldn't have imagined possible. Every muscle in his body throbbed, his scar seared continuously, and his brain felt as though it was squelching back and forth against the inside of his skull.

To say nothing of how his heart felt after watching Sirius die over and over again. Or the way his soul felt remembering what he'd said to Snape.

Despite the fact that his entire body felt ready to quit working on him, Harry didn't want to go back to the dormitory. The thought of lying in the quiet surrounded by peacefully-sleeping friends filled him with a sense of dread that he couldn't quite explain. So he meandered, staying in the general direction of Gryffindor Tower in case any teachers saw him; he could realistically say he was on his way back to the common room. But he hoped he wouldn't run into anyone. He didn't want to explain himself or where he'd been or what he'd been doing. And he certainly didn't want to go back to the common room.

It wasn't until Harry wandered into the D.A.D.A. corridor that it occurred to him something he did want. _"If you need to talk anytime, anytime at all, come to my office…"_

But it was almost midnight, and Harry didn't want to bother Professor Lupin. Heaven knew Remus had enough to worry about as it was. Harry sighed, walking more slowly, and tried to talk himself out of it. After all, what had happened tonight was his fault—mostly.

Why had he let Snape get to him so easily, when it was he, Harry, who had insisted on stepping up the lessons? It wasn't as if he hadn't known Snape would go straight for Sirius. Snape _always_ seized every chance to make him miserable—why did he even let it bother him anymore?

 _Because it's not fair,_ said the part of him that was still angry, but he brushed that thought aside. Since when had "Snape" and "fair" ever been heard in the same sentence? And Snape was right about one thing: Harry would get a lot worse from Voldemort if he didn't learn Occlumency. _But what he did wasn't about teaching me Occlumency._

And what Harry had said wasn't about learning Occlumency.

His feet were still carrying him toward Lupin's office. Remus was probably not even there; he would have already gone to bed, or perhaps he was out investigating Harry's latest vision. Harry shivered; if Remus did so, he hoped he would be careful. The thought of losing one more person—anyone—to Voldemort made Harry shake inside. The thought of losing Remus…Harry had to steady himself against the wall.

Glancing at the floor, he blinked: there was light under Professor Lupin's office door. Harry wound up standing in front of the door so fast he couldn't remember moving his feet, and he stood there in the darkened corridor for an absurd length of time, trying to decide what to do. Remus had told him to come if he needed to, and Harry wanted to talk to him almost as badly as he'd wanted to talk to Sirius after seeing the memory in Snape's Pensieve. But he didn't want to bother him. And imagining Remus's face when he heard what Harry had said to Snape filled Harry with a shame so intense he felt ill.

But he was standing like an idiot in the dark in front of Lupin's door at quarter-to-twelve at night, and couldn't seem to walk away. He didn't want to bother Remus, he really didn't, after the catastrophes he'd managed to cause already. But Ron and Hermione wouldn't understand all this. If only Sirius were here, he was just the person Harry would be able to talk to about what had happened.

It was the thought of Sirius that made Harry remember something he'd seen in the diary: Remus weeping on the steps of Number Four, Privet Drive, clutching Harry's wand to his face like a sacred relic.

The next thing Harry knew, he'd raised his hand to the door and knocked. "Come in," said a weary-sounding voice that made him wince.

But he'd knocked, so he turned the knob and hesitantly opened the door. Professor Lupin was sitting in front of the fireplace in his office, looking very tired. He blinked at the sight of Harry, then smiled. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Come sit down, Harry." With lowered eyes, Harry did so. "Cup of tea?" Harry nodded and stared at the fire until Lupin brought the cups over. "A staffer for a senior member of the American Wizarding Congress has disappeared. I'm waiting for the ambassador to get back to me."

Harry took a slow swallow of tea, fighting his churning stomach. "So that means…this one could be real?"

Remus nodded, his eyes soft. "It appears so. Do you think you would recognize a photograph of Voldemort's prisoner?"

Feeling the slightest little quiver of relief that the nightmare with Snape had not been a total waste, Harry nodded, then sighed to himself. No, the night hadn't been a complete waste—if he discounted that the only productive thing he'd managed to accomplish was the one thing he was taking Occlumency lessons to _stop!_ He swallowed and forced himself to look up. "Professor…"

"Pretend we're not at Hogwarts just now, Harry," said Remus in such a kind voice that it made Harry's throat tighten. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Tell me what's troubling you."

Harry choked down another swallow of tea, then asked, "Did Professor Dumbledore…or Snape…tell you what happened before the vision?"

Remus shook his head. "No, but we suspected the vision was not the only complication. Tell me."

Harry took a deep breath. "He…I…we…it went badly." Remus nodded, watching him closely. He turned to watch the fire again. "The memories…they're bad, and I couldn't control my emotions. He was…well, not actually laughing…" he shook his head. Had Snape's actions really warranted the fit Harry had thrown?

But Remus said, "Severus has a way of doing that. Go on."

"I…in the end, I lost my temper, and I…started yelling. I said some things…" Harry closed his eyes. "I called him a Death Eater. And…what Sirius and my dad used to call him."

There was a flicker of movement in the corner of Harry's eye; Remus had winced. When Harry dared to look at him, Remus was looking at the fire. He was silent for a long moment, then asked quietly, "Why were you so angry, Harry?"

Rubbing his prickling scar, Harry said miserably, "I felt like…he wasn't making me see the worst memories because of Voldemort or training…he was going after them because it was fun." Suddenly desperate to explain himself, he looked at Remus. "He had this look in his eye…like he was laughing at me. At…everything that had happened."

Remus dropped his head into his hands and grumbled something that sounded like, "He…never…grows…up." At length, he sat up again, looked at Harry, and sighed. "Do you want me to speak with him?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "No, I don't—no. It wouldn't help anyway." He frowned, not exactly sure what he wanted. "I just…wanted to talk. I'm sorry, I'll—"

He started to get up, convinced he'd made a complete fool of himself, but Remus caught his arm. "No, Harry, it's all right. I told you no matter what, you could come see me."

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead again, wishing his bloody scar would stop hurting. "I just…there's so many things I just wish…had never happened. I know I can't change them now, but I can't stop wishing it. I wish it so hard, and it's pointless." He looked at Remus helplessly. "Sirius, Uncle Vernon, the visions…what I said to Snape…I want to…take it all back somehow." He shut his eyes. "I want it to go away. I'd do anything to make it go away. I'd give anything to get Sirius back."

Now that he thought about it, Remus Lupin's hand on his shoulder didn't feel the same as that of Sirius. Remus's grip reminded Harry a little of Molly Weasley's: gentle but frantic, as if afraid Harry would disappear if he didn't hold on tight.

"You're not alone. Believe me. And feeling this way is normal. I know that doesn't help much, but it's true. I only wish there were some way we could go back and change what has happened." He tugged Harry's arm and made him look up. "What you must remember, what you must hold onto as tight as you can, is the fact that so many of those things were truly beyond your control. Don't blame yourself for the things Voldemort has done, Harry. That gives a victory to him. Sirius and your uncle were not your fault. In fact, the only thing that _was_ in your control…well…I'm very glad you regret what you said to Professor Snape."

Harry cringed. "I was so angry at what he was doing, using my worst memories on me—then I bloody went and did the same thing."

To his surprise, Remus laughed. "You're not turning into him." Harry blinked. "Remember, I knew Severus when he was your age. You saw James and Sirius at their worst, but I promise you, Severus Snape was no saint himself." Remus sighed and patted Harry lightly. "But I am glad you regret what you did. He has a way of bringing out the worst in people—it would break my heart to see you become twisted by him."

"I won't," Harry promised. "I'll do better."

Remus smiled. "If it were any other person, I'd suggest that an apology might help, but in this case…" This time they both laughed.

A roar of green flame from the fireplace caused Harry to leap out of his chair and yelp. He had his wand half-out before Lupin exclaimed, "Calm down, Harry, I've been waiting for this call!"

His heart in his throat, Harry realized it was just a fire call. The man in the fireplace raised his eyebrows at Harry before turning to Lupin. "Professor? We just confirmed. The missing guy's name is Alex Marshall, age twenty-four, staffer for Gabe Maury. Maury's on the International Relations Committee; someone could get a lot outta one of his people."

"Did you happen to find a picture of the man?" Lupin asked. The stranger—obviously an American—jerked his head at Harry. "Oh, pardon me, this is Harry Potter."

"No kidding? The Boy-Who-Lived, huh?" The man cocked his head at Harry as though sizing him up to the gossip; Harry was used to that look. "Good to meet you, Potter, I'm Greg Payton, U.S. Wizarding Embassy. Here's your photo. Recognize the guy?"

Payton slipped a picture through the fire, and Lupin picked it up, handing it to Harry. Harry's heart lurched at the sight of a broadly-grinning, handsome young man waving at the camera with his arm around a pretty blonde woman wearing a diamond ring. "Well…" said Payton, seeing Harry's face. "Guess that answers that question."

"Yes, that's him," Harry confirmed quietly. The smiling, cuddling young couple in the wizard photograph reminded him wrenchingly of his parents. He wondered what information Voldemort's lot had wanted from Marshall, and, once they got it, how long it would be before they killed him.

Payton was saying to Remus, "We'll have people in touch with you first thing tomorrow. You say this place is most likely in Britain?"

"Harry's seen it before; it seems probable."

"Okay. Let me know if anything else comes up. 'Night."

"Goodnight, Ambassador," said Remus, and Payton vanished from the fire. "The Americans won't take kindly to one of their people being used by Voldemort. This may be all we need to draw their full support against him."

Harry handed the photograph over sadly. "Too late for him, though. Right?"

Remus sighed. "Probably. Now you—" There was a sharp rap on the door. "Come in?"

Harry's heart dropped into his stomach with a surge of nausea as Snape marched in. "Lupin, did you—" He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Harry, and his eyes narrowed. "I might have known," he growled.

Springing to his feet, Harry muttered, "I'll go now."

"Harry. Sit down. Now."

Harry sat. He had never heard that particular tone in Remus Lupin's voice before. All he could do was watch dumbly as Lupin strode between him and Snape. "I'm sorry, Severus, was there something you wanted?"

Snape's furious eyes flicked from Harry to Lupin. "I was _going_ to ask if you had received an answer from the Embassy yet, but now I see Potter has been here whining to you about my treatment of him. The boy's going to be easy prey for the Dark Lord if he cannot even survive Occlumency _lessons_ without running to his father's pet werewolf for help!" he spat.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but a flick of Lupin's hand in his direction made him pause—and no magic was involved. "So, Severus," said Remus, in a light-but-calculating way that reminded Harry of Hermione, "am I to take it you feel your methods of teaching Occlumency have merit?"

Instead of answering Remus, Snape sneered past him at Harry. "Potter still seems to think I should leave his memories of the demise of his bastard godfather sacrosanct, and cannot begin to repel attacks for all his blubbering."

What outrage Harry felt was overridden by shock—and no small measure of panic—as Remus slowly advanced on Snape in a fashion so much like Sirius that Snape dropped his sneer and began backing away.

In a quiet, yet highly-intimidating voice, Remus said, "You have one more reason to be grateful that Sirius is gone, Severus, because I assure you, if it were Sirius here instead of myself at this moment, he would not restrain himself from tearing your throat out with his bare hands."

Before Snape could reply, Remus went on, "And for your information, Harry was here identifying a photograph of a missing staffer of a Wizarding Senator. It appears this particular vision was both accurate and highly significant, although we'll all rest easier once Harry no longer has them." Harry hadn't realized until now that Remus was as tall as Snape; he usually slouched. He didn't now. "Of course, I imagine the Occlumency would make more progress if the instructor were not so hopelessly mired in his own personal difficulties."

"Are you calling me incompetent?" Snape hissed, drawing himself up.

Lupin did not move a muscle, nor did he raise his voice. "A teacher so blinded by schoolboy grudges that he takes them out upon innocent people? A wizard so incapable of foregoing revenge that he would allow the entire wizarding world to fall? Yes, Severus, I believe those are rather glaring signs of incompetence."

Harry's mouth was hanging open. Neither Lupin nor Snape noticed. "I suppose," Snape snarled, "the boy came running to you last year after I discontinued his lessons. Did he mention how utterly incapable he was of not invading my privacy—or the fact that tonight he could not seem to resist flinging that invasion in my face once again?"

"Yes, yes, I know all about it, Severus." Lupin half-turned and mockingly waggled a finger at Harry. "You behaved very badly, Harry, very badly indeed. But then, sixteen-year-old boys sometimes do behave badly, as I am forced to admit, having been James Potter and Sirius Black's friend. But you are not sixteen anymore, are you, Severus? Yet you still behave in this fashion. Tell me, what is your excuse?"

Snape's jaw was working, his eyes blazing with fury, but he could not seem to form words. "That…arrogant…"

"I know James was an arrogant boy. We all were, in our own ways." Lupin's stance softened ever so slightly, but Harry still did not dare make a sound. "But James grew into a good man, an honest adult, as did Sirius." Then he advanced again, and Harry held his breath. "You are an adult as well, Severus, _and it is_ _high time you began acting like it!_ "

Lupin hadn't yelled—he didn't need to—but Harry jumped anyway.

Snape did not move a muscle. Lupin held his gaze for several moments, then slowly turned to face Harry. "Now, Harry. I realize you missed a birthday this summer, but you're sixteen years old, and there is a war on. Sirius and I both told you last year there is nothing as important as your learning Occlumency." Harry nodded, feeling his face starting to burn. Lupin's face softened. "I know this has been a painful experience for you. But you must concentrate all your efforts on clearing your mind and closing it to Voldemort."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Snape flinch. But he looked Professor Lupin in the face and nodded again. Giving Harry a quick smile, Lupin turned back to Snape. "Now, Severus, may I presume Harry will be permitted to continue Remedial Potions tomorrow night?"

Snape's face had gone from infuriated to utterly blank. Harry could not begin to imagine what was going on in the Potions Master's head. But Snape gave a curt nod, turned on his heel and stalked from the room.

Once the door swung gently closed, Remus's shoulders visibly relaxed, and he leaned against the nearest desk and let his breath out in a whooping sigh. Looking at Harry's face, he began to chuckle. "Whew. My word, I've wanted to do that for a long time. I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to come across so harshly—I was far more aggravated with him than with you. But it is essential that these lessons continue, and our side can ill afford childishness from anyone—certainly not from an adult who ought to know better."

Harry remembered to breathe then, and let himself smile back. "I think…Sirius would have loved that."

"Lord, they both would," said Remus, sitting on the edge of the desk. "I never told them to lay off Snape, but I seldom stood up to Snape either, preferring to let James and Sirius sort him out. They obliged, of course, but always said I should learn to handle him."

He smiled, and for a moment his eyes were far away. Then he looked at Harry. "You know, something else you ought to keep in mind, Harry, is that Sirius and James lived in a time of war as well. Of course, they were not nearly so central to it as you, but they faced their share of darkness, believe me. But still, even in the darkest of times, they remembered to live, and how to laugh. And I know they would want you to do the same." He glanced at the clock. "Well, I don't know about you, but I think that is quite enough unpleasantness for one day. You should be getting to bed."

On cue, Harry yawned, and got up. "Good night, then. And…Remus…thanks. For everything."

Remus gave him a parting pat as he went by. "Sleep well, Harry."

* * *

 

The following morning, of course, was N.E.W.T. Potions, and while Harry suffered a good deal of trepidation while actually walking to the classroom, Snape had obviously decided to stick with the invisible treatment and pretend Harry did not exist. Which was fine with Harry. He knew he would get more than enough attention from Snape that evening—and every evening until he could manage to get Voldemort out of his head.

And as far as motivation went, Harry sometimes wasn't sure whether his desire to master Occlumency was due to the need to close his mind to Voldemort or get away from Snape for good.

In any case, that afternoon, Harry was able to keep Professor Lupin's advice about remembering to live, as N.E.W. was getting interesting.

"Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall!"

Professor McGonagall nodded briskly at the sixth-years from all four Houses assembled in front of her. "Now then. Today we will be starting a unit on Animagi." She gave a thin smile at the murmurs of excitement from the students. "I am very glad to hear you are interested, but just to be sure," she picked up the stack of parchments at her desk, "you will now be receiving a short, but thorough, examination on the written material."

Harry sighed to himself with the others. It was a good thing Hermione had insisted on going over the readings with him and Ron as they were assigned. "If we want to become Animagi, we'd better make sure we know this information backwards and forwards!" she had insisted at the first sign that Harry and Ron were not giving the material their full attention.

"Really?" Ron had sighed crossly. "And since when did written material help us in Defense Against the Dark Arts? At least then you have to know curses! I don't see how becoming Animagi can be learnt in a book; I'll bet Harry's dad and Sirius didn't need—" he had broken off in horror then, glancing at Harry, who in turn had quietly agreed with Hermione, that they should learn everything they could about it.

Professor McGonagall's short examination still managed to last nearly until the end of class. Harry wracked his brains to remember all the assorted facts he had read in the Animagi chapter, When Man Meets Beast, as he answered the various questions. When they had finished, Professor McGonagall looked over several of the parchments, giving the occasional nod of approval. "It appears that _almost_ all of you have applied yourselves to the material."

Harry and Ron grinned at each other in anticipation as she went on, "However, there is one point which I must stress now, before we continue. It is possible that none of you will be able to become Animagi. This does not reflect in any way upon your ability to perform magic, or even your non-magic physical strength. The ability to become an Animagus requires a certain predisposition that is still not entirely understood by even the best wizard scholars. Last year, our own Lee Jordan became the first Animagus produced by Hogwarts in eleven years. However, you may find it possible to perform human transfigurations upon yourselves with the aid of wands, potions, or other wizards."

Hermione's hand went up. "Professor, is there any connection between the ability to become Animagi and wandless magic?"

"A sensible question, Miss Granger, but no. Wandless magic is directly linked to a witch or wizard's level of innate magical ability, while it is possible for the most powerful wizard to study for years and fail to transfigure their own body at will." The class-ending bell rang, and Professor McGonagall smiled. "Next class, I would advise you to dress in your most worn robes. You may find that a constant hazard in human transfiguration is the tearing of one's clothing. Class dismissed."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione hustled to the door. "I can't wait!" exclaimed Ron, practically dancing in anticipation. "What sort of animal do you think I might be?"

"Perhaps a cat?" suggested Seamus, walking past them.

"I think a sea cucumber," added Harry, ducking to avoid a clout.

Hermione looked troubled, "I just wish I would be able to become one. It would be so fascinating to turn into an animal!"

"Cheer up, you've got as much a chance as any of us," said Ron. "Didn't you read what the book said? Five of the eight registered Animagi this century were taught by McGonagall—she's really good at turning them out."

He and Harry were walking briskly toward the Great Hall for lunch, but they were forced to pause and glance back when they realized Hermione was not with them. Looking back down the corridor, they saw that she had stopped dead in her tracks, open-mouthed. "What's wrong?" demanded Harry.

With an expression of utter and complete incredulity, Hermione said slowly, "Ronald Weasley. Did you…just…quote…a _BOOK?_ "

"I…" Ron faltered.

Harry slowly turned his face from Hermione to Ron and then, feigning absolute terror, began backing toward Hermione.

Hermione's mouth twitched once before she whipped her wand out, pointing it with an exaggerated wobble at Ron. "Don't make any sudden moves, Harry!"

"What is it?" exclaimed Neville, coming out of the boys' bathroom and seeing their faces.

Leaning toward Neville while not taking his over-wide eyes off Ron, Harry said in a stage-whisper, "That…that… _thing_ quoted a _book_ at Hermione! At _Hermione!_ "

"Bloody hell!" Neville didn't miss a beat, but raised his fists. "Just stay back, you! What've you done with Ron!"

Ron folded his arms, mock-glaring at them. "Very funny!" They all shrank back and cowered in terror.

"Do you think he's possessed by You-Know-Who?" gasped Seamus from behind them.

"Not funny, Seamus," Hermione muttered, but Ginny had arrived from her class and came to the rescue. She dropped her wand, book bag, and a pineapple to the floor and charged.

"All right, you bloody imposter, I want to know where my brother is and what you've done with him!" she cried.

"Aaugh!" Ron was caught off-guard as Ginny knocked him into the wall and began beating his head against it.

"Where's-my-brother? You book-quoting, studious phony! Where-is-he!"

"Geroff! All right, all right, you've had your fun—ow! Gin, stop, that hurts! Eow!"

"Very well, very well!" Someone clapped their hands together, and the students turned to see Professor McGonagall, watching their antics with a veiled smile. "If you must insist on this level of rowdyism after lunch, kindly confine it to the grounds _outside_ , if you please. Now then, clear the hallway."

"Yes, Professor!"

"Sorry, Professor."

"Oy, Professor! Weasley quoted your Animagus book!" said someone, vanishing into the dispersing crowd.

Professor McGonagall's eyebrows arched up as she turned to glance at Ron, who blushed scarlet and glared at his retreating tormentors. "Indeed, Mr. Weasley? I'm very pleased to hear that my class material is the subject of your out-of-class discussion."

Still blushing, Ron muttered, "I just thought it was promising that so many Hogwarts students become Animagi."

McGonagall nodded, "Well, I would not start casting wagers just yet, as you have undoubtedly read. It is too early to tell how many, if any, students from class will succeed." Her smile became a little less veiled as she added, "All the same, it is a pleasant surprise, since you seldom grace your studies with full attention, Mr. Weasley. Five points to Gryffindor, I think." With one more small smile, she turned and walked away.

Hermione let out a little squeal and hugged Ron's shoulders. "There! Maybe _now_ you'll spend more time in the library!"

Ron was still red in the face, but he looked a little less perturbed. "Aww, well…let's go." He turned and swiftly headed down the hallway with Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny giggling in his wake.

* * *

 

By dinner time, Harry had decided that Sirius and his father's approach to the hardships of life as Remus described it did indeed have its merits. He, Ron, and Ginny got in an hour of Quidditch practice before Hermione got out of Ancient Runes, then they were in a good enough mood to let her talk them into doing some homework. So they all sat at a table in the back of the library working on their essays for International Magical Cooperation, which had turned out to be a very interesting class.

"Honestly," Ron said as they worked on their essays. "I always thought International Magical Cooperation'd be like the stuff Percy did—cauldron bottoms and such. But this is actually…"

"Relevant?" laughed Hermione. "I knew it would be. And it's even more important with the war on."

Harry had told them that morning about the vision of the American wizard in Voldemort's clutches. Ron and Hermione noticed his attention wandering then and knew he was thinking about it. "Don't fret on it too much, mate," said Ron. "Maybe they'll find him yet."

"I wouldn't count on it," Harry sighed. He turned his quill over and over in his fingers. "I saw his picture last night. His name is Alex Marshall, he's about Bill's age, and he's got a fiancée. Voldemort didn't even want him personally—he just wants information about the Wizarding Congress."

Ron winced. "Poor Yank."

"But look at it this way," said Ginny, pushing her Transfiguration book aside. "At least now the Americans know Voldemort's not going to leave them alone. And they've got lots of Aurors and power to add to the war."

Hermione nodded, seizing on the subject. "I skipped ahead in the book to the war with the dark wizard VanHoosenfeffer in 1904—the one where the entire German wizarding government was overthrown. Everyone thought VanHoosenfeffer would win until the Americans got involved, and it was the same sort of thing—a group of their wizards were murdered, causing them to come in force."

"Obviously old Tom Riddle skipped that chapter in his history books," said Ron cheerfully. "Ornery lot, those Yank wizards." He made a face at his essay. "Wish I could say the same for the Australians. Why _didn't_ they want to get into the International Magical Standards Treaty?"

"Isolationism," said Hermione.

"Gesundheit."

_"Ronald!"_

Ginny grinned at Harry and rolled her eyes. "What's the pineapple for?"

"Charms, we were making them tap-dance."

"That's first year stuff!" said Ron.

"It was a review for O.W.L.s, you prat!" she retorted, and threw the pineapple at him.

* * *

 

That evening, Harry was already concentrating on clearing his mind on the way down to Occlumency—but it was more out of a desire not to lose his nerve and run back to Gryffindor Tower than actual practice. But when he arrived, he got a start to find not only Snape, but also Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Lupin, and the American Wizard Ambassador he had met in the fire the previous night.

"Ah, Harry, come in. Close the door," said Dumbledore. Harry did so, eyeing them all curiously. "I understand you've been introduced to Ambassador Payton?"

"That's right," said Payton in his American drawl. He held out a hand, and Harry shook it. "Good to meet you in person, young man, whatever the circumstances. And thanks for your help."

"I…you're welcome," said Harry awkwardly, looking at Lupin.

"Why don't we sit down?" suggested Dumbledore.

They sat at a round table that had not been in Snape's office the previous night, with Remus Lupin on one side of Harry and Dumbledore on the other—which prevented Harry from accidentally looking him in the eye. Still, it felt good that he was right there. On the other hand, that left Harry facing Snape.

"We have some good news at last, Harry," Dumbledore said. "A search team of American and British Aurors believes they have found Lord Voldemort's stronghold." Harry saw Snape wince, and even Professor McGonagall and Ambassador Payton shivered. "It was empty by the time our forces were ready to enter, but at least Tom has lost the use of it. Professor Snape has already identified it, and the Ministry asks for your confirmation as well."

Across from Harry, Snape was scowling furiously at the tabletop, obviously irked that his own word was not enough, but Harry was too busy trying to control the churning of his insides to notice. "My confirm…how? Do I have to go back there?"

"Certainly not, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "Even the Ministry bureaucrats are not so inhuman as to force you to return to that place. We have means of showing it to you here, if you feel comfortable now."

The thought of seeing it again at all, in any fashion, still left Harry just slightly nauseated. Nonetheless, he swallowed and nodded. "Let's get it over with, then."

Professor Dumbledore and Ambassador Payton stood up and aimed their wands at the wall. _"Genero locmenti."_

One entire wall of Professor Snape's office seemed to fog over, making Harry squint and rub his eyes, and then the wall shifted, changing to form the image of a large, torch-lit cave, with walls and floors of smooth stone. Dumbledore waved his wand, and it seemed as if they were traveling down the tunnels until they reached a giant, underground chamber, its walls lined with braziers, and a stone chair carved with snakes at its center with a circle of torches just in front of it. The image kept moving until they went through a side entrance to a smaller, curtained room lit by a single row of candles, containing one chair.

Harry's mouth was very dry. "That's it," he whispered.

"That is the place you were taken?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Harry nodded. "And…that smaller room…I've seen it…in the visions. It's where Voldemort had that man last night." Then something occurred to him in a rush, and he asked, "Did you find him?"

Payton's face fell, and he nodded. "He's dead, son." Harry flinched hard, and felt Lupin's hand rest lightly on his shoulder. "Don't worry. Your Dark Lord's gonna wish he'd never brought an American into this by the time we're done with him."

"This brings us to our next question, Harry," said Dumbledore. "The Ministry is sending a number of Aurors and Ambassadors to the United States to discuss cooperation in the fight against Lord Voldemort. In particular, many members of the American Wizarding Congress would like to hear from you."

Harry blinked. "What? But…why me?" As he looked from Dumbledore to Payton, he saw Snape roll his eyes.

Payton laughed. "That oughtta be obvious. You're the foremost expert in the wizarding world on the old bastard!"

"Ambassador! Mind your language, please, Mr. Potter is still a student," Professor McGonagall scolded.

Payton just grinned. "Pardon, ma'am."

Harry was still confused. "But…what do they want to know? What more can I tell—half the things I barely even remember!"

"It's your celebrity, Potter," Snape said in a low voice. "Now that the Americans have _finally_ decided to involve themselves, they wish to behold the face of the Dark Lord's arch-nemesis in person."

No one missed his sarcasm, but Payton said cheerfully, "That's more than half-true. We may not have fought in the last war, but we know about the Boy-Who-Lived. All the reports in the world won't have half the impact of someone who can put a human face on what we're up against."

For the first time in living memory, Harry found himself agreeing with Snape. "If all you want is a human face," he said tightly, "why not tell them about Alex Marshall? Or the woman in the picture with him."

At least it got Payton's attention. His face turned hard, and he told Harry, "Believe me, kid, they'll hear about that too. Marshall's funeral is tomorrow. The girl in the picture's Anita Green, his fiancée. She's addressing Congress the day after that."

Harry saw honest sorrow on the man's face, which made him feel badly. He hadn't meant to rub Payton's nose in Marshall's murder. "So…what is it you want me to do?"

Professor McGonagall leaned forward, folding her hands on the table. "This is the reason I recommended that you take International Magical Cooperation, Potter. The time has come where the wizarding forces of many nations join together against the Dark Lord, and you have already shown yourself capable of…uniting persons behind a cause." She gave him a sly half-smile.

"But that's just a club!" Harry protested weakly. "And everyone knew Umbridge was incompetent."

No one corrected him to say "Professor" Umbridge. Professor McGonagall was undaunted. "Yet now everyone knows the Dark Lord has returned, Mr. Potter. And as unfair as it is to someone of your years, you are and have always been the most powerful weapon our side has against him." Her face was solemn, but her eyes never left his, and Harry knew she was speaking to him as a member of the Order. After all the time he had spent being kept in the dark, her kind-but-blunt words meant a great deal.

Payton also leaned forward. "The bottom line is, people'll listen to you. If there're any doubters after what happened to Marshall, your coming to ask for support'll make the whole country look up and take notice."

Harry couldn't help but notice that next to Payton, Snape was slouching in his chair, his scowl getting darker and darker as Professor McGonagall and the American Ambassador spoke. _He was the spy in Voldemort's ranks for years,_ he realized. _But it's still me everyone wants to hear it from._

Harry found that he could not feel the least bit smug about that fact. Maybe it was the sight of those tunnels so fresh in his mind again. He forced his mind back to the questions at hand, and nodded slowly. "All right. If it'll convince them to get involved, I'll go."

Payton reached across the table and gripped Harry's hand. "We appreciate it, son, believe me. And I promise—unlike your countrymen last year—" he grinned at the Professors, "we'll be very receptive to what you have to say."

Professor McGonagall snorted quietly behind her hand. "How soon would you require Mr. Potter to go?" she asked. "He has unfortunately missed a good deal of class this term already."

"So I heard," said Payton with a grimace. "This Saturday okay? After the Green girl says her piece to Congress, I'd bet anything they'll be in session straight through the weekend. It'd give Potter a chance to chat with a few senior members informally—no chamber speeches or anything like that—and we'd get him home by Monday."

"But Albus," said Professor McGonagall, "there is still the question of protection. It would be wise if we draw as little attention to this trip as possible while seeing to it that Potter is kept safe."

"Hmm," said Payton, leaning back and rubbing his chin. "An Auror escort'd be one thing, but that's not exactly subtle, is it?"

"And I fear there are still questions as to the trustworthiness of some in the Auror ranks," said Dumbledore. "Perhaps I will be able to persuade the Minister to allow me to see to Harry's safety."

"He'll want people from his office to go with them," warned Lupin. "Maybe we can convince him to limit the number. _And_ no reporters, or at least not until they're safely back." Something in his voice made Harry look at him. He had the distinct impression that Remus was not at all happy about this trip.

"It's a shame it cannot be you, Remus," said Dumbledore, making Harry's heart sink. He'd been about to suggest just that. Seeing Harry's expression, Dumbledore explained, "I fear the restrictions on travel for individuals with Lycanthropy would render all our efforts at stealth useless."

Harry turned sharply toward Payton. "What have Americans got against…"

The Ambassador hastily raised his hands. "Hey, it's not us, it's your people! The restrictions on werewolf travel got tightened by your Ministry last year."

 _Umbridge,_ Harry thought. Snape smirked.

Dumbledore put a hand on Harry's shoulder to forestall the disgusted retort he'd been about to deliver, and said, "All the same, it would be wise for Harry to be accompanied by a Hogwarts Professor. Moreover, in this case I believe the best person for this task is one who knows Lord Voldemort's methods well." In his brief pause, Harry made the connection, and his mouth opened in horror as Dumbledore finished, "We will send Professor Snape."


	12. War Games

"You're going _where_ with _who!_ " Ron gasped.

Harry nodded grimly. "I woke up this morning hoping it had been a bad dream. But no, it appears I'll be spending an entire weekend being paraded around the American Wizarding Congress like a bloody prize fighter—with Snape as my traveling companion. Do you suppose it occurred to any of them that I don't _know_ how to stop Voldemort?"

They were lingering in the boys' dormitory after everyone else had gone down to breakfast. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and even the thought of harvesting Oyster Pods and playing Quidditch in beautiful autumn weather wasn't enough to distract Harry from dreading the weekend.

Hermione, perched on Harry's bed absently picking lint off Ron's robes, shook her head. "Honestly, it's a shame Professor Lupin couldn't have gone instead. If anyone else were going to be with you, I'd be jealous." At their baffled expressions, she explained patiently, "The chance to travel to another country, to see their magical society and speak with their leaders? It's an amazing opportunity!" Then she wrinkled her nose, "Or it could have been."

With a sigh, Harry grabbed his book bag. "At least the thought of being stuck with me all weekend distracted Snape from ripping my brain apart like he usually does. I actually managed to hex him a few times."

His friends perked up. "That's good news, Harry!" exclaimed Hermione. "Ginny said you seemed a little less miserable than usual when you got back last night. We'd wondered if it went better."

As they made their way down the stairwell, Harry shrugged. "Like I said, Snape was distracted. I don't know if I'm improving any."

"Any dreams last night?" asked Ron.

Harry paused on the stairs. "Come to think of it…no!"

He thought hard back through the past twenty-four hours, and realized in a rush that made his heart race that yesterday and last night, his mind had seemed his own. There had been no odd surges of alien emotion, and moreover, there should have been, yesterday of all days.

Ron and Hermione looked back at him as he sat down right there on the steps, smiling helplessly. "I just realized…they penetrated Voldemort's headquarters yesterday. He may have gotten away, but he should have been furious—and I didn't feel anything!"

"That's fantastic, mate!" Ron yelled, leaning over to slap Harry on the head. "You're making real progress, then, and we can stop worrying about you getting possessed!"

But Hermione was frowning. "Unless this is another trap of some kind, and he meant for the headquarters to be found."

Harry looked down at her in dismay. "Hermione," said Ron, "you are _such_ a killjoy!"

Harry sighed. "No, she's right. No sense getting overconfident."

"Still," said Hermione as they resumed their walk. "At the moment, one is just as possible as the other. If he's set up all this _and_ managed to keep you from even feeling his moods, well, he's becoming stronger in his mind. On the other hand, if he didn't, and you're still not feeling anything, then you're getting stronger in yours."

Ron crossed his fingers. "Here's hoping it's the latter."

"Amen to that," agreed Harry.

"Don't forget, we've got Quidditch tryouts this afternoon. Feel all right, do you?"

"Better than usual. And I'm actually hungry!"

* * *

 

Harry would long remember that day as the most restful he'd had in a long time. He and his friends had a pleasant—and large—breakfast while listening to the Hogwarts Music Society rehearsing for their Halloween concert. Hermione got into a lively conversation with a group of Ravenclaws from their International Magical Cooperation class about International Confederation of Wizards, and they decided to talk to Professor Churchill about having some in-class debates. Harry, Ron, and Katie Bell brainstormed about the best way to go about Quidditch tryouts that afternoon, and an owl arrived from Fred and George saying they would be there. Snape brightened the whole Great Hall with his absence, and Harry—feeling especially punchy—hexed Malfoy's sausages to roll away every time he tried to pick them up. No one caught him.

Herbology was a gorgeous affair. Since the start of term, they'd been raising the valuable but frustratingly-delicate Oyster Pod Plants, always with Professor Sprout's assurances that the work would be well worth it at harvest time. That morning, under bright sunlight, sparkling blue skies, and a crisp breeze in the gardens, the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs collected the swollen pods into heaping baskets, then sat in cheerful groups on the grass shelling the shimmering, colorful Pearl Peas into bowls, then sorting them by color.

"I'm half-tempted to keep some and put them on a string," Hermione laughed, emptying a pod into their biggest bowl, which looked like a something out of a pirate's cache. "They're so pretty!"

"They are popular for imitation pearls," Neville told her. "But they're right useful in Potions, amulets, and talismans too."

Hermione nodded. "Pass me another Pod, Seamus. They are lovely, one of the few really helpful Potion ingredients that isn't disgusting to handle, unlike leeches and lacewings. I'd much rather wear a string of Pearl Peas around my neck than have to make a talisman out of slug eggs and newt intestines."

The rest of their group made disgusted sounds in agreement. "Of course, you'd have to get the color scheme right to make the protection work, otherwise you'd just have a pretty necklace," said Neville. He held up one of them in the light. "Does this look gold or bronze?"

"Give it here, Neville." Ron took the pearl and compared it with the gold bowl, then the bronze. "Bronze."

"I think the peach is my favorite color," said Hermione.

"I like the gray," said Lavender Brown.

Harry contemplated the bowls. "Gold."

"Wear a gold string during games, Harry," laughed Ron. "Then maybe the Bludgers won't get you!" Harry threw an empty shell at him, and the group laughed. "I think I like the blue ones."

"Sleep with a blue one under your pillow, and it improves your intellect," said Susan Bones.

"Do…not…say… _anything_ , Hermione!"

By the time class ended, the sixth years had harvested, shelled, and sorted almost a hundred pounds of Pearl Peas, and a delighted Professor Sprout gave both the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs thirty points. "You've done beautifully, dears!" she told them proudly. "Oyster Pods can only be raised during these few weeks at the very end of summer, and this is one of the finest crops I can recall!"

In Curse Defense after lunch, Professor Lupin took them outside to practice Shielding Charms. He too seemed in better spirits today, and sportingly allowed a few no-holds-barred (within reason, anyway) duels toward the end of class. As they returned to the building, he remarked to Harry, "You're looking well today."

"I'm feeling well," Harry said happily. "It must be the fresh air."

Lupin smiled at him. "Then keep this day in mind when you need to clear your head. You know what I mean." Harry nodded. To his surprise, the surreptitious reminder of Occlumency didn't dampen his mood like normal. "Class dismissed, everyone!" Ron gave a tug at Lupin's robes, and he laughed, adding, "Oh, yes, your announcement: those of you who are interested in trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, be at the pitch in three hours, thus sayeth your Keeper!" Everyone laughed, and Harry waved heartily at Lupin as they headed off.

* * *

 

"Fred and George are judging," Ginny told Harry as they headed for the pitch. "Madame Hooch said they could still help the team even if they can't play—and once we pick a Captain, then we'll decide how to work out the positions. Ready?"

"Very ready," said Harry. "Let's go." He kicked off and followed them eagerly into the air.

Fred and George were milking their foray into the "real world" for all it was worth, watching from the stands in Gryffindor scarves, scribbling on a clipboard and screwing up their mouths as though pondering very carefully every move the team made. Five Gryffindors had come out for the Quidditch team, including an ambitious second year, a seventh year who'd failed in tryouts every year but always tried again, one other fifth year along with Dennis Creevy, and Seamus Finnegan. "Gives us a fair pool to choose from," Ron had observed.

The current and prospective members of the Gryffindor team voted unanimously to let Fred and George oversee the tryouts. First the twins formed them up into two lopsided mini-teams: Red and Gold. Harry was Seeker on the Red team, Ginny on the Gold, Ron Keeper of Red, Seamus of Gold. The Red Beaters were Fred and Lavinia Watson (the seventh year), and the Gold Beaters were Giles Fitzgerald (the second year) and Andrew Kirk. The chasers of the Red team were Dennis Creevy and Katie Bell, and the Gold Team had George filling in with Jonathan Long (another fifth year).

Once they were all gathered up with red and gold armbands tied on to distinguish the teams, Fred and George spoke up in such knowing and composed voices that Ron chortled and Ginny had to cover her mouth to hide her laughter. Even Harry couldn't help snickering.

"Now then," said Fred in a pompous tone that reminded Harry of Percy, "I know none of you have played on these teams before. Don't worry if you aren't as smooth as you'd like. Each of you knows what position you want. Just take care of doing your job for your team; we'll be judging by how you know what to do, rather than just how you execute it. We'll rotate positions a few times so we can see where everyone fits in best. Then we'll make our decisions. Madam Hooch, if you would?"

"Certainly, Mr. Weasley. As our esteemed eighth years said," Madam Hooch added, causing snickers from the current team members. "Just relax and play. Don't think about who's watching; concentrate on your game. Ready?" She threw open the ball box, releasing the Snitch and the Bludgers, and then tossed the Quaffle up to George and Katie, who were leading off for the newcomers.

Harry, hovering overhead watching for the Snitch opposite Ginny, kept one eye on the controlled chaos on the field. All things considered, the candidates were doing rather well. On "his" team, the Reds, second year Giles Fitzgerald showed some definite Chaser style that reminded Harry of Angelina Johnson. A little tentative about actually grabbing the Quaffle, but he kept up…hmm, a definite possibility. Seamus was doing surprisingly well as the Gold Team's Keeper; he'd held off Katie's shots nearly half of the time (which, considering Katie's experience, was quite good.) Lavinia Watson had given up on trying out for Chaser, but she was doing very well as a Beater, keeping up with the Bludgers and whacking them to the opposite side of the pitch—though she nearly took out Harry once while he was circling overhead.

They'd split up the teams well, he decided, because the score was nearly tied, with the Reds ahead only ten points. Suddenly, across from him, Ginny dove. Harry hesitated for only a second as Andrew Kirk chased a Bludger across his field of vision. Surely Ginny wouldn't attempt a Wronski feint against him on a Cleansweep! She'd smash herself into the ground! He made up his mind, leaned forward and blasted after her.

Swerving around the Chasers, with Dennis in the lead carrying the Quaffle, Harry caught a glimpse of gold. So Ginny had seen the Snitch. He leaned harder on his Firebolt, pushing for more speed to catch up. It didn't take long; Ginny's Cleansweep was no match for his broomstick in speed. As he pulled up beside her, she suddenly swung in front of him and dove low at the sandiest part of the pitch. Following, Harry pulled back up just in time to avoid a spray of sand into his face. _Not bad, Ginny!_

He swung out and around her, keeping an eye on the Snitch as it zipped toward the Slytherin stands. Ginny glanced up at him and aimed her broomstick nearly straight up, trying to get above him as she sensed where the Snitch was now heading. Sure enough, it rose higher, and the two Seekers kept after it, sending the Chasers zipping frantically out of their way. As the wind whistled in his ears, Harry heard a loud _whack!_ behind him and instinctively ducked. A Bludger whistled over his head as he surged after the Snitch, and he heard the loud _thud_ and yell of surprise from an unlucky flier behind him as he gained ground. Ginny had fallen back, and the Bludger had been thrown off course by the last collision, so he stretched out on his Firebolt as far as he could, pushing faster and faster…closer and closer…and finally, grabbed.

Snitch in hand, Harry looked down, and immediately raced toward the ground. The Red and Gold teams were crowded around one of the other Gryffindors upon the ground—apparently, that Bludger hit had been bad. One glimpse at the red head cradled against Ron's chest had Harry off his broom and scrambling through the group. "Ginny! Ron, how bad is it?"

Madam Hooch got there a few seconds ahead of him, and Harry was forced to peer over her shoulder. Ginny was awake at least, but blinking dazedly at nothing. "Miss Weasley? Can you tell me what day it is?"

Ginny shook her head hard, then raised a hand to her temple where blood was trickling down. "It's Thursday," she said, wincing in pain. Everyone let out a collective breath. "Ooh, that hurt."

"Are you sure you're all right?" Ron asked urgently.

Ginny nodded slowly, closing her eyes. "I feel like the Beaters mistook my head for the Bludger, but I think I'll be fine."

Madam Hooch nodded, extending her hands. "Let's just get you on your feet and back to Gryffindor Tower, Miss Weasley. Have a lie down and if you don't feel better by tomorrow morning, go and see Madam Pomfrey."

"Okay."

At that point, Fred and George reached them from the stands. "Ginny! You all right?"

"Calm down, you two, it was nothing. Just a bloody big bump."

Hermione appeared at Madam Hooch's elbow. "D'you want me to take you back to the Tower?"

"Thanks, Hermione."

"But what about the team? We have to choose…" said Andrew Kirk hesitantly.

Ginny sat back down on the sand with all three of her brothers now hovering protectively around her, and sighed. "Allow me to make this simpler. We all know Harry's the better Seeker."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ginny, you did a fine job last year and today!" Harry protested.

"So I was fine," she said, crossing her arms impatiently. "You've always been brilliant. Face it, you're the one for the job. No need to beat about it; my feelings won't get hurt." She sighed again. "I did want to try for Chaser."

"Madam Hooch," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Don't the rules allow for replacement players to be trained in case someone gets hurt for more than one game?"

Madam Hooch nodded. "You may train as many players as you like, but there's no switching during a single game. If Potter starts as Seeker in a game, he must finish, or if Miss Weasley begins as Chaser in one game, she's Chaser until the end."

Everyone perked up. "But if, say, Ginny were Seeker for one whole game, Harry could still be Seeker for the next?" mused Ron. "Or if we were planning to field Harry, but say, before the game he got struck by lightning—"

"—Or hexed by a Death Eater—"

"Shh! Seamus!"

"— _Anyway_ ," growled Ron, making the others giggle. "If something happened to a player at the last minute _before_ the game started, we could still send in an alternate player for that game?"

Madam Hooch nodded again. "That's correct, Mr. Weasley."

"Now we're getting somewhere," murmured Fred, staring at his clipboard.

"That's perfect!" exclaimed Katie. "What say you, Ginny? Care to be our alternate Seeker in case something happens to Harry?"

"Like always," Harry muttered.

Ron stared at him for several moments. Then he calmly got up, walked quietly over to the ball box, picked up a Beater's bat, walked calmly back over to the team, and solidly whacked Harry on the head.

"Eow!"

"Now, now, enough of that, Mr. Weasley," said Madam Hooch sternly, despite the quirk of her lips, and the rest of the team hid their smiles.

"Sorry, Madam Hooch. I don't know what came over me!"

"A word of advice, Mr. Weasley. If you desire to win this year's Quidditch Cup, corporal punishment of your teammates should be confined to the non-brain-damaging variety."

"Make a note of that, Watson!" said Fred, handing the clipboard to Lavinia, who duly wrote it down with a straight face. Harry debated silently who to hex first after Madam Hooch left.

"Now that that little matter's settled, what about it, Ginny?" asked Ron pointedly.

"Of _course_ , I'd like to be alternate Seeker! But could I still try out for Chaser?"

"Are you feeling up to it?"

"Yeah, I think so. Come on, let's have one more mini-game!"

"Right-o, then!" Ron jumped up. "Fred, George, set us a new lineup with Ginny as a Chaser candidate. Anyone else want to try out for another position? Now's your chance!"

The aspiring players pressed forward eagerly. Fred scribbled on his clipboard for a moment, then began, "All right, here's the new lineup. Red team: Ginny, Dean, and…"

And that was that. Harry found that he rather enjoyed his stints as Beater and Chaser, and thought perhaps it was a good strategy to be training all the players for more than one position.

In the end, Harry managed to get out of being elected captain by pointing out that the team hardly wanted a potentially-brain-damaged leader, and Ron was elected, to the delight of the twins and Ginny.

Harry thought Ron was better-suited anyway; he was the strategist of the two, as their chess matches frequently showed. Ron remained Keeper, with Seamus as his alternate. Dennis, Ginny, and Katie got the chaser positions, with Giles Fitzgerald and Jonathan Long as their alternates. Ginny, of course, was also Harry's alternate, and most of the team quietly agreed that given Harry's tendency to wind up hospital wing-bound for at least one game per year, she'd get some Seeker playing time. Andrew Kirk and Lavinia Watson made Beater, and the Gryffindor team was complete.

* * *

 

"You have _how_ many people on the team?" demanded Neville when Ron told him about the new lineup.

"Well, seven, same as always," said Ron cheerfully.

"But I thought—"

"We're allowed to train up substitutes. It's just that most House teams don't have enough potential players to do that. How else could the professional teams last through such long games when both Seekers are even matches? They have to have substitutes, but then again, they've got the whole Quidditch-playing world to choose from. We just got lucky this year I guess," said Ginny, coming to sit down nearby.

"This is terrific! The other houses won't stand a chance! If someone gets hurt, we can just rotate!" said Colin Creevy.

Harry shook his head, "It doesn't work that way, Colin. We can't substitute players in the middle of a game unless it runs…what was it, Hermione?"

"A game has to run six hours before a team can start in-match substitutions," Hermione recited, without looking up from her Arithmancy book.

"So for most games, we have to decide ahead of time who to field," finished Ron.

"Still," said Vinny Watson, "it'll help us avoid those disasters when Harry wound up in the hospital wing and—" she broke off and turned bright red.

Harry hastily nodded, pushing down a surge of annoyance at the way they all seemed to mince around him. It was, after all, better than when they hadn't believed anything he said. "Yeah, I do have a knack for getting myself injured halfway through the season. Now we've got Ginny, who's plenty experienced enough to hold down the team if we need her."

"What's this, Potter? You're such an unreliable Seeker that now Gryffindor's got to train someone else just to take up your slack?" said a familiar and much-hated voice. Several of the Gryffindors groaned loudly, and for some reason, that made Harry feel less aggravated.

"Malfoy!" Harry said sarcastically. "I'm surprised at you! We've been here for nearly five whole minutes, and you haven't said a single nasty thing!"

"Righ' about' that, old boy," said Ron with his mouth full of bread. "We wuh beginnin' tithing you didn' wanna be friends 'ny moh."

Hermione's eyes sparkled as she leaned forward and rested her chin on her hand, "Yeah, Malfoy. Harry was afraid you didn't love him any more! You usually spend so much time with him!"

Malfoy's face turned a lovely shade of maroon, and he muttered something through thin lips about, "Filthy mudbloods," and wandered away. Neville looked at the three of them in awed delight as Hermione clapped her hands together and Ron slapped the tabletop with glee. The twins, who had stayed for dinner at Professor Dumbledore's own invitation, applauded.

"I don't think we've ever shut him up so well!" Hermione whispered happily.

"He's nod so thuff widdout Big Ba' Da' aroun' to freaten peoble," said Ron, around another mouthful.

"For heaven's sake, Ron, swallow!"

"Sowwy." ( _Gulp!_ ) "Hey, Harry, I saw Snape arguing with Madam Hooch earlier. I don't think he's very happy to see how strong our team's going to be this year either!"

Harry raised his eyebrows and frowned at Ron over his juice glass. "That's not a nice thing to say. You know I won't be able to sleep at night knowing that I haven't made Snape happy."

Then their entire section of table erupted into howls of laughter, as Fred and George gravely got up and came over to feel Harry's forehead for signs of fever, and the Slytherin professor in question scowled down at them from the head table as if he knew exactly what they were laughing at. Of course, he was too far away to have heard what Harry said, but Ron was also of the opinion that it gave Snape indigestion to see Gryffindors smile.

* * *

 

By the time Harry was headed down to the dungeons, Occlumency did not even seem the giant wall of misery that it had been before. Maybe it was simply because the day had gone far too well for Harry to allow anything to spoil it.

Not even Snape.

He remembered the advice Remus had given him after Curse Defense, and told himself, _Just don't let him get a rise out of you. Don't react. Think about today, about the Quidditch team, and the wind and the blue sky—and how satisfying it felt to whack those Bludgers._ Reaching Snape's office, he took a deep breath and knocked.

"Enter."

Snape was standing behind his desk. Harry met his cold gaze and walked across the room without dropping it. _You can do this. You can do this._ Without waiting for Snape to give his usual greeting of combined insults and criticism, he pulled out his wand. "I'm ready."

Something flashed through Snape's eyes that might have been surprise, but he gave a curt nod and said snidely, "If you say so, Potter. _Legilimens!_ "

 _Breathe…_ Sirius's body curved in a graceful arc as he sank bankward toward the ragged veil hanging from the arch…Harry could see Snape muttering…

_"Protego!"_

It was the fastest he'd ever reacted, and Snape was obviously not prepared. His wand was knocked right from his hand, and Harry saw the teenaged Snape hanging upside down, suspended by his father's spell…a handsome blonde boy in a Slytherin robe was strolling with a group of friends, beckoning to a solitary dark-haired boy leaning against a wall…a red-haired, green-eyed girl and a black-haired boy with glasses were sitting very close together at a table while a greasy-haired boy watched them…

Something collided with Harry's shoulder, and he stumbled. The book hit the floor with a loud thud. Snape was glaring at him, white-faced again. "Is it possible for you to keep your nose out of my business, Potter?"

 _Think about flying, think about hitting Bludgers…_ Harry took a deep breath and fought—hard—against a surge of irritation. "I don't know how to keep that from happening. Sir. I wasn't trying to do it."

"Then, _don't._ " Harry mentally rolled his eyes. Snape just wanted an excuse to be angry at him. "On the count of three. One—two—three— _Legilimens!"_

Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil…he concentrated hard, dragging Snape's face to the forefront of his mind, there he was…the veil fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind…Harry closed his eyes…the veil fell back into place…Harry lowered his wand and brought into his mind the bowls of Pearl Peas in all their colors, white, gray, peach, gold, bronze, silver, blue, reflecting the sunlight…the Department of Mysteries had disappeared, but he heard Bellatrix Lestrange's triumphant scream and his heart lurched, but then he gritted his teeth and thought of the wind in his hair as he streaked skyward after the Bludgers… _concentrate, concentrate_ …soaring high above the pitch and taking aim with both arms behind the bat— _whack!_

Harry's eyes flew open, and he staggered backward, panting, his heart pounding, but every part of him practically bellowing triumph. Snape's face was utterly blank as he lowered his wand, and that was all the confirmation Harry needed: he'd done it. _He'd done it!_

He couldn't keep the smile from his face, not even when Snape sneered, "Don't get cocky, Potter, this is the first time you've managed to shield yourself in all the months we've been attempting these lessons."

Harry let himself grin. He knew Snape would probably go searching for a new wound to tear open, but it didn't matter. It was _finally_ working. _Wonder if I should tell him I was acting on some advice REMUS gave me! Ha!_ Instead, he said mildly, "Again, then?"

"Lower your wand, Potter," said Snape. "In all probability if your mind is attacked by the Dark Lord face-to-face, you will not have your wand at your disposal. You've shielded yourself once, let us see now if you can do it consistently."

Taking a deep breath, Harry did so, and closed his eyes.

_"Legilimens!"_

The front door of Privet Drive was exploding inward…Harry gasped, seeking the memories of flying under the clear blue sky…he heard Aunt Petunia screaming for him to get Vernon…his throat tightened…he was losing it…he held onto the colors of the Pearl Peas for a few seconds, but the silver-gray gave way suddenly to the gray ash covering Uncle Vernon's body as Harry rushed up to him… _No, no_...he heard Voldemort's cackling laugh as knelt on the floor in despair…Harry's eyes flew open so he could see Snape concentrating…in desperation, he raised his wand and shouted with all his strength.

_"Protego!"_

The force of his shield sent Snape crashing backward against his desk, and Harry was too rattled by his own failure to stop his mind from crashing into Snape's memories: a greasy-haired young man was kneeling before a hooded, red-eyed wizard with his left forearm held out beneath the wizard's wand…a wizard in black robes and a white mask hung back and watched silently as others like him gleefully hexed a family of Muggles…the same young man was hovering in the shadows of the entrance to Hogwarts as though trying to find the courage to go in…a greasy-haired man watched with clenched fists as two other wizards dragged a semiconscious, black-haired teenager into a stone tomb…

 _"Expelliarmus!"_ Harry's wand flew from his hand, and he jerked instinctively backward at the sight of Snape directly in front of him. _"What did I tell you about staying out of my memories?"_ Snape roared.

 _"I don't know how!_ " Harry yelled back before he could stop himself.

"Do not take me for a fool, Potter," Snape growled at him. "After your little stunt with the Pensieve, do you expect me to believe your nosiness does not drive you now?"

"Do you think I _want_ to see what you and your Death Eater friends got up to!"

Harry froze when he realized what he'd said. Snape was dead silent, still white-faced, his eyes on Harry burning with hate. Before Harry knew what he was doing, he blurted out, "I'm sorry!"

It was hard to say then which of them was most surprised—Harry hadn't meant to say _that_ either.

Snape let out a cold laugh. "Nonsense, Potter. You are no such thing."

Harry sighed miserably, thinking of what Lupin had said the other night. Avoiding Snape's eyes, he muttered, "Yes, I am."

* * *

 

When they got up the next morning, Ron said he had something to take care of and went downstairs early. Harry came down to find Ron and Hermione whispering urgently to each other in the common room. "It's ridiculous to go on this way as if we're ashamed!"

"I just don't know if I'm ready—"

"You're not being fair to keep it from him!"

"Why can't _you_ tell him then?"

"Tell who what?" Harry asked.

Ron and Hermione both jumped. "Er…nothing, mate. Just something about…never mind," said Ron, his ears glowing red. "Let's go have breakfast!" And they both scrambled for the portrait hole before Harry could press further, to his annoyance.

He tried to ask about it twice during breakfast, but his friends stubbornly insisted it was nothing to do with him. Ginny rolled her eyes at him, but offered no explanations. Hermione was reading over her Specialized Defense essay yet again. "I saw Professor Smythe-Wellington having wand targets brought into school last night. Today's lesson should be interesting!"

That was enough to distract him. "At last, we're getting off the bloody word puzzles!"

Hermione looked annoyed at him, but Ron nodded in agreement. "We know being in Law Enforcement means learning to think, but we've got to learn to fight too."

"You may be surprised to find how often closely those two skills are connected, Ronald."

A few hours later, Ron would mutter to Harry that perhaps from then on they should just do whatever Hermione told them to do whenever she told them to do it and let her lead them both around on leashes. At least they wouldn't get embarrassed so often. The only good thing to come out of that class was that Harry and Ron were definitely not alone in their embarrassment.

There were indeed over a dozen target practice dummies leaning against the classroom wall when the Specialized Defense students arrived. They were all dressed up like people. Professor Smythe-Wellington watched the class's excited whisperings as they filed in.

"Today," she said when they settled down. "You will be learning how to read a situation and react defensively or offensively under pressure. We will begin with each of you taking part in a simple drill—a very common one, in fact, which we use in Auror training." Harry and Ron grinned at each other in delight. For once Smythe-Wellington didn't snap at them, but went on explaining, "Each of you will stand alone with these target dummies for precisely thirty seconds. The rules are simple: you may use _Reducto_ , but no other curse—if you hit the target, it will be more than effective."

She raised an eyebrow as the class tittered and continued, "The dummies' wands will shoot you with a Stinging Hex—but if you are hit, assume you are dead." There was another wave of giggles. "You must judge for yourself how best to respond; each dummy is enchanted to a certain level of aggression—some can duck," she added. "If you have not been stung by the end of thirty seconds, then you have survived. Now," she waved her wand, and four walls suddenly sprang up in the middle of the room, hiding the dummies from view. "It would be a disadvantage for those who enter last to see how the dummies respond, so you will each enter alone. Who would care to go first?"

Nearly every hand in the room shot up. "Miss Patil, come up then." Smythe-Wellington stopped Padma just before she entered the little space. "I will give you all this final suggestion: treat this situation as if the dummies are real human beings, and you are encountering them in the street. Understood? Very well. When you have all walked the gauntlet, we will discuss each of your performances. Proceed, Miss Patil."

Padma drew her wand with a nervous grin and marched into the little newly-built practice course. All the students leaned forward. And then, _"Reducto! Red—ooh! Reducto!"_ There were wild crashes from inside as dummies were blown apart, but in less than ten heart-pounding seconds, Padma shrieked. "OW!"

"She's bought it!" laughed Draco.

"Another word from you, Mr. Malfoy, and you will spend this class writing lines rather than taking part in this exercise _in addition_ to the fifty points I take from your House," growled Smythe-Wellington from the course doorway. Peering inside, she said, " _Reparo!_ Return to your seat, Miss Patil. Next: Mr. Zabini."

Zabini fared little better; he only lasted five seconds or so longer than Padma had, though from the sound of it, he "killed" more dummies. Harry hadn't the faintest idea what the dummies must be doing in there. Between the shouting of curses and the explosions, it was impossible to tell—which was probably what Smythe-Wellington had in mind. From what he could gather, he was proud to note that all in all, the D.A. members in the class seemed to last longer than non-D.A. members.

Neville lasted nearly the entire thirty seconds, and from the sound of it, blasted nearly all of the dummies. Harry was very impressed and winked at him as soon as Smythe-Wellington's back was turned. Malfoy, to Harry's disgust, was the first to come out "alive."

Ron sounded like he was doing well, but came out after twenty seconds with a sting on the back of his neck, looking thoroughly disgusted. Hermione survived for almost the full length but seemed to hit fewer dummies, and came out giving Harry a very urgent look, until Smythe-Wellington snapped, "Eyes up front, Granger!"

Susan Bones lasted for quite awhile as well, but hardly hit anything, and they could hear her scrambling frantically to avoid the dummies' shots. Then it was Harry's turn. Determined to do as well as Malfoy, he drew his wand before even walking in, but then thought better of it: that might make the dummies go after him before he even got into a good position. Instead, he went carefully to the entrance and tried to peer inside before charging through. Smythe-Wellington did nothing to hurry him along, so he looked to see that the makeshift room had indeed been enchanted to look like a dark alley. Taking a deep breath (ignoring the stifled sniggers from the Slytherins) he slipped inside and ducked behind a rubbish bin.

The nearest dummy immediately turned and pointed its fake wand at him. _"Reducto!"_ Harry shouted, and blasted it to smithereens. Then they all started to glide around the course, and he got to work, keeping his eyes on them all and blasting them as soon as they turned in his direction. One dummy in a hideous green suit made to hide behind a building, and Harry abandoned his own hiding place, blasting two more as he went so he could run it down. He had a close scrape where one hit the wall next to him, but he was able to duck in time, then blast it.

It was intense. It was exciting—not to mention satisfying. Harry imagined the one in gray as Draco Malfoy, the ones in red as Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange—and one of the ones in black as Snape. And the one in green as Wormtail. Before he knew it, he was standing in the middle of the "street" with destroyed dummies all around him. He'd made it.

Professor Smythe-Wellington's lips twitched ever so slightly as she looked in at him and repaired the dummies. "Move along, Potter. MacMillian, you're next." Harry was very glad she couldn't see the broad grin on his face as he returned to his desk, and she seemed to ignore the whispered praise of his classmates—he'd finished much faster than Malfoy.

When they'd all done, their Professor removed the training room (despite pleas from a few students to do it over again) and sat down at her desk. "Now, you will find this second half of the lesson rather discomfiting, but I assure you, if you wish to pursue careers in Magical Law Enforcement, you shall have to become accustomed to oral evaluations…in public." Several students moaned softly. "These remarks are not intended to insult any of you personally, but to give honest and critical professional opinions of your performance. Now…in all, I noticed particularly swift reactions in most of you, far quicker and more assertive than is normal for your age group." Many D.A. members turned to grin at Harry, and he bit the inside of his mouth to keep his face politely attentive.

Smythe-Wellington went on, "Now, like all aspects of Magical Law Enforcement, this has its positives and negatives. You defended yourselves well, very well in many cases, yet I noticed a disturbingly strong tendency toward over-aggression. In particular," her eyes fixed upon Draco, then upon Harry before either boy had a chance to react. "Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter. Oh, and Mr. Longbottom also has this dubious honor." Harry and Neville gaped at each other. Smythe-Wellington smirked at their confusion. "I did say, did I not, that you should respond as though you were encountering these people upon the street?"

She waved her wand at the dummies, which stepped forward. "You did notice, did you not, their manner of dress? This should have been a clue to you of how you ought to treat them." Soft gasps rang out, and many students buried their faces in their hands. Harry's heart was sinking slowly to his feet. "Tell me, Mr. Potter, are you in the habit of hunting down and cursing helpless Muggles in the street?"

Harry stared at the dummy in the green suit and stifled a groan. Before Draco could so much as sneer, Smythe-Wellington whirled on him and gestured to the three dummies in red robes. "And you, Mr. Malfoy, you do realize that you killed all three of your fellow Aurors even as they attempted to back you?" Harry couldn't laugh at that either—he'd done the same thing. "And you as well, Mr. Longbottom, you were so busy cursing friendly wizards that you left yourself open to be hit by a hostile one."

Smythe-Wellington stared down each of the shamefaced boys in turn, then continued, "You three received the lowest marks on this exercise." Neville buried his face in his hands. "Mr. Potter, you managed to scrape a two instead of one out of ten, because you at least paused to assess the situation before charging in—although I am sorely tempted to take back that point for your astonishing inability to process what you had taken the time to see. Now," her face softened, and she turned to the rest of the class.

"Miss Bones, you received the highest marks, as you were not over-aggressive and did appear to grasp the significance of the Muggle dummies—although your targeting needs work. You also failed to notice that the three Auror dummies were not aiming their wands at you. Miss Granger, you spent far too long deciding whether each dummy was aggressive, and opened yourself up to attack. You must react more swiftly in such a situation— _wipe that smirk off your face, Mr. MacMillian,_ for you seemed determined to take out lampposts rather than targets!"

And so it went. It was a sorry group of sixth years who crept out of Specialized Defense dragging the tattered remnants of their egos before lunch time. Harry was so anxious to get as far from that classroom as possible that he bolted the minute he got out the door, and Ron and Hermione had to chase him down.

"Harry, wait!" Hermione pleaded. "Don't feel badly, nobody was really supposed to do well! This was just to teach us a lesson!"

"Bones did well," Ron groaned. "I'm with Harry; let's go bury ourselves in one of the greenhouses for a few weeks until our faces stop being red!"

"You did better than me," Harry muttered, leaning against the wall without looking at them. "I was a bloody disaster."

Hermione jumped in front of both of them. "Don't take it to heart! This was our first practical exercise! She said—"

"You didn't see her face when I finished, Hermione, I think she was laughing at me," said Harry. "She knows I want to be an Auror, and she doesn't think I have a prayer!"

"Well, if you go and give up after one little snag, then no, you won't have a prayer," Hermione said fiercely. Harry glared at her, but she folded her arms. "Do you really want to do it or not?"

"You know I do!" he snapped, exasperated.

"And you've had bad practices in your precious Quidditch, haven't you? Did you give up after them?"

Harry threw up his hands. "Nobody got killed in a bad Quidditch practice!"

"And nobody got killed today." Hermione sat down on the stairs so Ron and Harry couldn't get past her. "That's what exercises like these are all about—teaching us our strengths and our weaknesses so we can learn to deal with them in training."

"Are you done lecturing yet?" Harry growled.

"Fine!" she snapped, jumping up. "I was just trying to make you feel better, but if you want to sit around and feel sorry for yourself, who am I to stop you!" And she flew up the stairs, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

* * *

 

Hermione and Harry barely spoke to each other for the rest of the day, and to make matters worse, Ron seemed to have sided with Hermione. Harry saw them whispering and shooting each other significant looks in the common room that night, so he furiously went to bed early, even though he would be leaving in the morning with Snape.

Between those two thoughts, he didn't manage to clear his mind at all before bed, and his dreams were plagued by visions of the underground tunnels Remus said were in the Wizarding Congress's building. He also saw a room that seemed very deep underground, dimly lit, and containing a a single, very old and worn stone pillar that reminded Harry painfully of the archway in the Department of Mysteries.

That comparison alone woke him with a jolt at three in the morning. He supposed he'd better mention it, though it guaranteed him another reaming out from Snape.

And so Saturday dawned like a yet another bad dream, and Dobby came to wake him at seven. "Mistress McGonagall says you is to be getting up now, Harry Potter," he whispered loudly, and held up a small suitcase. "She says Harry Potter is already packed for the trip, so to come and wear your school uniform."

"Thanks, Dobby. Tell her I'll be right down," Harry groaned.

As he dragged himself out of bed, Ron stirred and mumbled at him, "Going?"

"Yeah," he said, getting dressed.

Rubbing his eyes, Ron pulled a face. "They would drag you off at this ungodly hour, wouldn't they?"

"Perfect start to an ungodly trip," Harry said.

Ron nodded sympathetically and watched Harry for a few moments before saying, "Listen, before you go…" Harry paused from pulling on his school robe and looked back. Ron was blushing. "Hermione wanted me to tell you to be careful. You know…she didn't mean anything by it yesterday."

Harry sighed. "I know. Tell her I'm sorry, would you?" Seeing Ron's frown, he added, "I'd tell her myself, but it's early, and I've no way to get to the girls' dormitory without waking up everybody else. No need to ruin the whole House's Saturday morning."

"True, I guess."

Harry put his Specialized Defense textbook into his bookbag along with his notebook. He had a feeling he would need something to occupy himself. He thought of bringing his Potions text, but spitefully decided against it. He paused before closing the bag and grinned up at Ron, who was watching him over the side of his bed. "Tell Hermione I took this with me," he said, holding up the Specialized Defense book.

Ron grinned back. "I think I'll let her drag me to the library to study for that class. We won't let old Smythe-Wellington discourage us!"

"Right!" Harry slapped his hand.

Two beds away, a lump of blankets stirred and grumbled, "Shuddup, will ya?"

"Sorry!" Ron whispered, and they both sniggered. He leaned toward Harry and whispered, "Good luck! And watch yourself!"

Harry picked up his book bag and waved. "See you tomorrow night!"


	13. Coming to America

Dobby led Harry to a small meeting room with a dark oak table covered in food. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape were waiting for him, along with Minister Fudge, Ambassador Payton, and, standing beside Fudge with a suitcase in his hand and a pompous look on his face, Percy Weasley.

Harry stopped in the doorway and fought the urge to sigh. Could the next two days possibly look any bleaker?

"Come in, Harry," said Dumbledore, beckoning him to the table. "Have some breakfast before you leave."

Harry went slowly to the seat next to Lupin, hoping it didn't look too much like he was retreating from Fudge and Percy—and Snape. At least the food gave him something else to concentrate on. "There were a few things we naturally must go over with you before your departure, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall. He looked up at her and waited, so she went on, "As you may or may not know, the headquarters of the American wizarding government exists in the same building as the American Muggle government." Harry nodded. "For that reason, we are sending you with clothing that will allow you to pass—respectably," she added with a faint smile, "as a Muggle. It is the policy of American wizards to coexist closely with their Muggle community, but their standards for secrecy are just as strong as ours. Fortunately, you are experienced at interacting with Muggles, so I assume you know how to conduct yourself in their presence."

Harry nodded again, but frowned thoughtfully, "Surely they do magic sometimes."

"Sure we do," said Payton, looking up from his grapefruit. "We're in the same buildings, but our offices are in the lower levels. Works out fine. Just no magic allowed outside the offices."

"Except in self-defense, naturally," said Lupin from next to Harry.

"I doubt that will be necessary," Snape sneered, "as long as the boy doesn't get into any mischief."

"Harry wasn't getting into mischief the last time Voldemort decided to come calling—"

"Remus, please," said Dumbledore as the others flinched. "Every precaution is being taken to ensure Harry's safety. Ambassador Payton has been discreetly making preparations for the past few days, and Professor Snape is well-experienced with the methods of Lord Voldemort."

"I'll bet he is," Payton remarked. Snape smirked. Percy sniffed.

"In any case, Harry, for secrecy reasons, I suggest that you do not use magic at any time for any reason except self-defense," said Dumbledore. "To do so would provide unfriendly wizards with yet another means of tracking you."

Harry finished his toast and looked at Professor McGonagall. "Is there anything else?"

She looked at him sternly. "Only to impress upon you that you are representing not only yourself and Hogwarts, but all of Wizarding Britain, Mr. Potter. It should be clear to you that you are functioning as an Ambassador yourself in this endeavor, and your success could mean a good deal of support for us in the war with the resources of a nation who remained neutral last time. I trust you will behave accordingly?"

Harry nodded gravely. Dumbledore still did not meet his eyes, but he smiled. "Then all that remains is to wish you luck. Shall we?"

Dumbledore led the way out of the castle toward Hagrid's cabin. Harry saw Hagrid appear and wave at Dumbledore before disappearing behind it. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering how secret this trip really would be. "Not to worry, Harry," said Lupin, walking beside him. "Professor Dumbledore charmed all the dormitories so the occupants would think this was an excellent morning for a good sleep in."

Startled, Harry asked, "Does he do that often to keep people from seeing things?"

"Very seldom," said Professor Dumbledore. "And it is hardly a controlling spell—I believe at least two people in Gryffindor have interests in the windows that have overridden the desire to sleep in." He smiled and gave Harry a little wink, then turned toward Hagrid's cabin. "Ah, here we are!"

From behind the cabin came a carriage, painted a dark gray and drawn by a team of six gray winged horses. Hagrid grinned at Harry. "Beautiful, aren't they? Granians, sent special by the Ministry! They'll have yeh to the point in under three hours!"

"They're flying us across the Atlantic Ocean in three hours?" Harry exclaimed.

Lupin laughed, "No, the carriage will be taking you to a departure point. It's an intercontinental portkey—you'll find a few of them in most countries. It'll take the whole carriage straight from Belfast to Washington."

Hagrid took Harry, Snape, and Percy's bags and stowed them in the back of the carriage. "All set, Headmaster. The Granians'll know where ter go."

Professor Dumbledore extended a hand to Percy, who shook it after a brief hesitation. "All the best, Mr. Weasley. Severus," he put a hand on Snape's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "I have great faith in you. Take care." Snape simply nodded. Dumbledore turned and smiled in Harry's direction without actually looking at him. Harry knew the reasons for it, but it still rankled him that Dumbledore could look Snape and even Percy in the face and not him. "Good luck, Harry. Come back safely."

Harry shook Fudge and Payton's hands in farewell, and Professor McGonagall took one of his hands in both of hers. "Be careful, Mr. Potter."

"I will, Professor," he said, and then Lupin came to see him. Once again, Harry found himself remembering Remus on the steps of Number Four, Privet Drive. At the moment, Remus looked as if he wanted to drag Harry away from that carriage. "I'll be careful," Harry repeated quietly.

"I know," Lupin replied, aware that Fudge and Percy were watching. He smiled and murmured, "Your godfather—and probably your father—would most likely be giving you loads of advice right now about all the trouble you should cause on this trip. But do me the favor of ignoring it, would you?"

Harry had to grin. "I promise." They shook hands discreetly, but both their grips were tight.

"See you tomorrow night." Then Lupin stepped away so Hagrid could sweep Harry into a massive hug of farewell.

"Take care o' yerself, Harry!"

"Bye, Hagrid!" Harry grunted before Hagrid stopped crushing his ribs. Then Hagrid went to stand with Fudge, Payton, and the Professors, and Harry found himself standing beside the carriage with Snape and Percy—and with an increasing sense of dread at the impending forty-eight hours of misery.

"After you, Potter," said Snape in a snide tone, and with a mental sigh, Harry climbed in, sitting on the wide, velvet-upholstered seat and peering out the window at Remus and Hagrid. Percy and Snape followed, sharing the opposite seat because clearly neither one wanted to sit beside Harry. Harry refused to look at either of them, and kept his eyes on Remus as Percy tapped the ceiling with his wand.

Curiosity got the better of Harry, and he leaned out the window a little to watch the winged horses break into a trot, swinging the carriage out onto the field and gathering speed. Harry glanced, wide-eyed, back at the grinning Hagrid, and even Remus and the other Professors were chuckling as they waved goodbye. Harry stuck a hand out and waved back, then watched as the Granians spread their gray wings and lifted the carriage off the ground.

Remembering what Dumbledore had said, Harry turned toward Gryffindor Tower as they soared past it. He couldn't see whether anyone was at the windows—they were going by too fast—but somehow he just had this feeling that Ron and Hermione were there. He waved.

Within a minute, the Granians had swept the carriage around past the mountains, and Hogwarts was gone. Harry pulled his head back in with a sigh. Percy had pulled out a book and was determinedly ignoring Harry, and Snape said, "If you're finished with your grand send-off, Potter, kindly do us the courtesy of being _quiet_ for the remainder of the trip."

Harry didn't bother answering, but pulled out his Specialized Defense book and a notebook and spent the next three hours working his way through the latest Auror chapter's Problem-Solving and Critical-Thinking Exercises. Hermione would have been proud.

Some time later, the feeling of descending made him emerge from a frustrating question about whether to draw his wand when approaching a witness to a crime who might also happen to be a suspect, and he peered out the window. They were definitely lowering through the crowds. Percy reached up and pulled a lever in the ceiling, and Harry watched with fascination as the outside of the carriage and the winged horses were Disillusioned—as was his own head anytime he stuck it out to look around. But there was nothing to see until they finally broke through the cloud cover, then a city spread out below them.

They swept downward at a dizzying angle, heading for what looked like an empty airplane hanger. At first, Harry thought he saw wisps of smoke in the air as they approached, but he realized they were other Disillusioned carriages. When they had nearly reached the ground, the charms vanished, and the area was as busy as an airport terminal with people carrying luggage and carriages running back and forth.

Their carriage touched down, and the Granians fell into a trot in a line of other carriages. Up at the front, Harry could see a wizard taking some kind of tickets from the people inside each one. "Get your head in, you stupid boy!" Snape snapped at him. "And cover your forehead."

Gritting his teeth, Harry did so, and ducked his head over his books as their carriage reached the attendant. "Destination?"

"Washington, DC, United States," said Snape. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw him hand a small parchment to the attendant, who stamped it and handed it back.

"You're fifth in line. Put away all loose items and come to a full stop on the platform," said the wizard, and he waved the Granians on.

Without giving Snape a chance to snap at him again, Harry quickly closed his books and stowed them in his bag, holding it tightly in his lap. He stared out the window as they rolled slowly on, and watched another line of carriages moving to another platform parallel to them. A carriage rolled onto the platform and came to a stop, then the platform disappeared. As Harry looked on in fascination, a few moments later the platform reappeared, with a different carriage on top that rolled off so the next one in line could roll on.

It was like a magical airport—only faster.

Their carriage bumped up onto their own platform and rolled to a stop. Instead of a tug on his navel, Harry felt the movement in his whole body, and screwed his eyes shut as the carriage sped away in a whirl of wind and color.

They landed with a loud thud that jolted Harry off the seat, forcing him to grab the armrest to steady himself. The first thing he noticed was how warm the air coming through the windows was. Bursting with curiosity, he peered out the window.

"Expecting fanfare, Potter?" Snape sneered, but Harry ignored him, flattening down his fringe so he could lean further out.

They were galloping away from the platform onto a green field surrounded by lush, hilly countryside in a breathtaking array of fall colors. Harry saw no sign of the American capital city. "Where are we?" he asked without thinking.

"Falls Church, Virginia," said Percy. "It's to the west of the city, some miles out for security, though still far too well-populated in my opinion. _I_ can't imagine what possesses American wizards to live this way, disguising themselves as Muggles to live _and_ work among them." He sounded so disdainful that Harry stared at him.

The carriage rolled to stop beside a dirt road, where four men in gray suits were standing beside a shiny black car. One of them approached the window. "Hogwarts party?"

"That's correct," sniffed Percy. "And you are?"

"Don Spalding, Federal Magical Security."

Percy and Snape nodded to each other, apparently satisfied that the wizards were genuine, and Snape shoved open the door and jumped down. Percy disembarked after him, leaving Harry to climb tentatively out, dragging his book bag.

"I am Percy Weasley, Junior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, and this is Professor Severus Snape of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Percy recited in an appallingly aloof voice. He did not mention Harry's name, though Harry got the impression that was out of secrecy rather than spite, so he hefted his book bag and said nothing.

"Allow me," said Spalding, taking Harry's book bag, and gesturing to one of the others to help Snape and Percy. Leaning close to Harry, he held out a hand and said in a low voice, "Welcome to the U.S.A., Mr. Potter."

Harry was startled by the sly smile the American wizard gave him, but shook his hand and said, "Thank you."

"This way, gentlemen," said one of the others, and they opened the car door for Harry.

As they drove, Spalding said, "We'll be your escorts while you're on American soil. Incognito, you understand. We'll stop at the hotel so you can switch to non-magic attire. The U.S. Capitol is a Level One security zone—full Muggle interaction at all times."

"That seems a dreadfully inconvenient way to run things," said Percy.

Harry cringed, hoping Percy wasn't going to start offending the foreign wizards, but Spalding just shrugged. "Inconvenience ain't a good enough reason to ignore the Muggle populace, as far as we're concerned. We do pretty well."

Curiosity got the better of Harry. "Don't Muggle police or guards ever ask you what you're doing in their government buildings?"

Spalding grinned at him in the rear view mirror. "Sure they do, and our reasons are perfectly legit. You'll see."

They arrived at what appeared to be a red brick mansion nestled in the trees. "Is this the regular foreign wizard accommodation?" Percy asked curiously.

"Uh-uh. This one's exclusively for high-security VIPs. When you leave, you won't be able to find it again. No one can who's not driven with prior approval by one of our cars."

"That's well," said Snape gruffly.

They were led through the glittering hotel lobby, before Harry had a chance to gawk at the gleaming marble floors and columns and chandeliers, and up the stairs to three rooms. "This is your room, Mr. Potter, in the middle," said one of the other guards. Perched upon a stand next to Harry's door was an enormous bald eagle.

Spalding grinned at Harry's startled face. "That's Prairie. She's one of our guards. They work in shifts; the other two are Trouble and T.J. If anyone tries to get through this door who isn't one of us," he pointed at the other three escorts, "or one of you," he nodded at Percy and Snape, "they'll get their eyes gouged out. And if you ever arrive to find the stand empty," Prarie flapped her wings vigorously, "or if the eagle doesn't do that, get the hell downstairs and call for help."

Harry nodded gravely, then Prarie pecked a small notch in the wall behind her perch, and his door swung open. "Be ready to go in ten minutes, Potter," said Snape.

The room was the most luxurious place Harry had ever laid eyes on, but he didn't have much time to look around. One of the guards had deposited his suitcase on the bed, so as soon as the door closed, he threw it open and hustled into a pair of plain, dark gray trousers and a maroon shirt that would feel much cooler than the finely-knit jumpers in such hot, humid weather. He was in front of the mirror trying to comb his hair down over his scar (and the mirror kept telling him, "Give it up, hon, it's hopeless,") when Snape rapped on the door and yelled at him to hurry it up.

* * *

 

They drove to Washington down a busy highway through Arlington, Virginia. On the way, Spalding handed Harry, Snape, and Percy identification badges that read, **Future Youth Leaders International Relations Summit, Hogwarts Prep.**

The guards were now all sporting badges that read, **CIA.**

"Can you get away with that!" Harry exclaimed, knowing full well who the CIA were.

"Sure we can," Spalding laughed. "Truth be told, the badges are genuine. FMS is a branch of the CIA, although our Muggle colleagues believe we're the Fraud in Music Section. We tell them hysterical stories around the water cooler; they still think we're the ones who exposed Milli Vanilli."

Harry was baffled but couldn't help laughing, understanding more of what Spalding was talking about than either of his traveling companions. Snape's brow was furrowed in confusion, and Percy merely looked scornful.

The car was zooming along with the heavy traffic onto a bridge by then, and Spalding pointed ahead. "There's an impressive view coming up for you, Harry."

Harry peered ahead curiously as they rounded a final bend, then the high-rise offices gave way to a towering obelisk, pointing skyward from the center of a long, tree-lined park surrounded by white buildings, and down at the end of the park, a massive, domed edifice that seemed to glow against the blue autumn sky.

Harry didn't realize until he gasped that he'd stopped breathing.

Spalding grinned back at him. "You feel it, don't you?"

It was very odd; Harry did feel something. The entire city seemed to exude power, but not merely magical power the way Hogwarts did. It was unnerving, but not menacing the way Harry's various encounters with Voldemort felt. "What…what is that?"

"Washington, DC's a powerful city, by Muggle and magical standards," said Spalding. "The wizarding population had as much to do with its construction as Muggles—and our guys added a few touches of their own. It's the most warded city in the world. There's the White House," he added, pointing to a smaller building nestled among green lawns and trees as the car sped along the left side of the giant obelisk. "We're on the National Mall now. That's the Washington Monument," he gestured to the obelisk.

"Rather conspicuous for wizards so set on secrecy," said Percy.

"Oh, House side, Coop, House side," Spalding told the driver. To Percy, he said, "Wizards didn't build this stuff—the Muggles did that. Well, the designer of the Capitol was a wizard, but aside from him, our ancestors mostly added the magical touches. The Founding Fathers wanted to design a city that'd intimidate and humble foreign visitors," Spalding chuckled. "Let's just say the Founding Wizards made sure that if the design of the city didn't do it, the enchantments would."

Apparently, it had worked, Harry thought appreciatively, trying to read the names of the white marble buildings as they passed. They drove in front of the giant Capitol building…but in a rush of amusement, Harry realized that in spite of its sprawling, square sides and the tall dome, the building wasn't really that big, it only _felt_ big. Magic.

Then the car was pulling up to the curb across the street from the Capitol's right side. "Hop out," said Spalding.

"Keep your head down, Potter," Snape muttered at Harry as they climbed out. He did so, but thought he looked more like a dangerous criminal than a visiting schoolboy with the knot of suited men around him. Percy looked comfortable enough in his gray coat and trousers, (he could easily have belonged there, in fact), but Snape looked as though he intended to make someone pay for forcing him into a black Muggle-style suit and tie (which in Harry's opinion were better-suited for a funeral than diplomacy.)

Spalding gestured to the strangely-shaped buildings in front of them. "The House Office Buildings. Home to the offices of members of the United States House of Representatives— _both_ of them," he added with a grin. "The one we want is the Cannon Building, there on the end." They walked up the marble steps to a revolving door, and Spalding muttered at them, "Drop any watches or money in the basket and leave your wands hidden. Metal detectors won't pick them up."

"What?" exclaimed Percy in confusion.

"Just follow my lead." Spalding dropped some loose change and the gold watch he was wearing into a basket, then strolled through the squarish plastic archway. Harry caught his imagination doing nasty things to the metal detector and shook his head; he'd seen metal detectors long before he'd known about magic, how could he react like to them like this?

But the arch shape still made him cringe.

With helpless shrugs, Percy and Snape dropped their coins into the basket and followed Spalding through. Harry did the same, and as the police officer monitoring the equipment handed their baskets back, he blinked at them. "What're _these_ things from?"

Harry's heart lurched: he, Snape, and Percy were carrying Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. The officer looked more curious than suspicious, so he hastily said, "Coin collection. Just bought them today," and emptied the baskets back into Percy and Snape's hands.

"Good thinking, kid," Spalding muttered at him. "Sorry, forgot to warn you."

"Do you use Muggle currency as well?" Percy asked.

Spalding shrugged. "We've tried to get them to use _our_ currency a few times, but they just like to keep it for collections." He pulled a few coins from his pocket to show Harry. "Double Eagles, Sacajaweas, and Kennedys. This way to the stairwell."

The American Muggle government was certainly impressive enough, Harry decided, looking up at the rotunda they passed beneath on their way to the corridors. Feet echoed on the gleaming floors, and the soft lights and wooden office doors gave the cream-colored marble walls a golden look. Harry read some of the names next to the doors as they passed: **U.S. Rep. Clint Verne** , R-Florida, 6th District, **U.S. Rep. Gill Flounder** , R-California, 22nd District, **U.S. Rep. Ray Bryce** , D-North Carolina, 4th District.

They went through a side door with a sign for the men's toilet, which baffled Harry until he noticed that the lavatory was to one side, and the door Spalding was taking them to opened on a narrow stairwell that, for some unfathomable reason, had a hair salon nestled off the landing next to the defunct lift doors. "Is that for your people?" he whispered to Spalding as the barber waved cheerfully at them.

"Nope, the upper floors are all-Muggle space," said Spalding. "Our offices're in the basement levels between two of the House Office Buildings."

"Between two buildings?" Harry repeated.

"They're all connected by tunnels—and that was the Muggles," Spalding told him with a fatherly pride that reminded Harry of Mr. Weasley. "But there's more rooms down there than they could possibly need, so we've appropriated a few of them. And made sure the Muggles forgot that section's even there."

The basement corridor they emerged into was just even more bustling than the upper floors had been, and from the warning look Spalding gave them, these were all Muggles too! They passed through yet another rotunda—this one entirely underground with a large, scale rendering of the Capitol Building in marble in the center, and a bust of a man that winked at Harry as he went by—then Harry jerked to a halt.

They were entering another tunnel that sloped unmistakably downward; he had seen this place before. Snape gave him a nudge, and he forced his legs to carry him forward past a shoeshine booth into a corridor lined with bricks.

Harry knew he was gawking like a tourist, but the Muggles had built a veritable little city under their Capitol! There was a bank, a post office, a gift shop, an office supply store, a dry cleaners—even an ice cream parlor! The place was very crowded, and Snape and Spalding had Harry pressed in between them, making it hard for him to look around. The tunnel kept sloping downward until they finally rode a descending escalator under a sign that read **Longworth** **HOB** , and left the worst of the crowds behind for an area that appeared at first glance to be storerooms and mailrooms of some sort.

Then they reached a door with the gray paint peeling and a sign that read, **Area Closed for Renovation** , and Spalding surreptitiously pressed his badge against it. There was a little flash, and the sign changed to read, **American Wizarding Congress, House of Representatives Offices** , then the door swung open.

"We're heading for Kate Leland's office first, she's Chairwitch of the Magical Defense Committee," Spalding told them. "You'll have a chance to chat with her about what to expect from Lord You-Know-Who before lunch with the senior Members, and then the individual meetings today and tomorrow. Oh, and dinner with the Magical Defense Committee, breakfast tomorrow with the International Relations Committee, and lunch tomorrow with the IRS." He strode ahead to the first door while Harry stared after him, dumbstruck. _Bloody hell, we're booked solid._ He didn't dare look at Snape.

Spalding led them to a heavy, carved wooden door next to a nameplate that read, **U.S.W** **. Rep. Katherine Leland,** D-Florida, 5th District. The door opened to reveal, not a dusty storeroom, but a busy office suite.

A blonde witch around Percy's age was sitting behind the desk nestled in a corner right next to the door. "Morning, Mr. Spalding." Then she noticed Harry, and her jaw dropped. "Ohmigod! It's—"

"Easy, Pat," Spalding cautioned. Once the door had closed behind them, he said, "Yes, yes, this is Harry Potter. And this is Professor Snape from Hogwarts, and Mr. Weasley from the Ministry." Pat had recovered from the shock, but still shot Harry a broad grin, making him blush. Percy looked offended that his title had been omitted. "Let your boss know we're here."

Pat jumped up and went to a tall door on the other side of her desk. She rapped on it, then opened it a crack, and Harry heard her whisper, "Kate, they're here!"

"Right on time!" said someone, and two women came quickly out. The first was tall, with wavy, short brown hair and a very nice, warm smile that Harry couldn't help returning. The second witch was shorter than Harry was. She had chin-length, dark blonde hair, a broad smile, and keen, twinkling eyes that reminded Harry so much of Dumbledore that he was startled. She thrust out her hand at him and said in a slightly-drawling accent, "Hey, Harry, how are ya! Welcome to Washington, was your trip okay? It's gonna be a busy couple of days, but we'll make the most of it."

Wondering how someone so small could generate such an impression of power and at the same time seem so nice, Harry awkwardly shook her hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, Madam."

"Oh, sorry, guess you haven't been introduced," said Pat. "Harry, this is Congresswoman Kate Leland, and our Chief of Staff, Lila Brandon."

"Hi, Harry, good to meet you," said the tall woman, shaking his hand firmly.

"And I take it you've met Pat, she's our Scheduler," said the Congresswoman. Harry nodded, trying not to look as bewildered as he felt. "Let's have a seat in my office. We've got about ten minutes before we should head to the Committee Room for lunch."

She led them into a large room with a table, many chairs, and a loveseat all opposite a huge oak desk, which she scorned in favor of sitting cheerfully on one side of the loveseat and patting the opposite side for Harry to join her. He did so hesitantly, but this left him facing the others, and he caught a glimpse of Percy and Snape. Percy looked a bit sullen, but while Snape's face was completely blank, something in his eyes warned Harry that the almost-doting attention he was receiving from the American wizards and witches would not go unpunished later.

Congresswoman Leland's face was gentle as she regarded Harry. "So we're told you were the last person to see Alex alive?" Swallowing hard, Harry nodded. "And You-Know-Who didn't say anything about what he wanted over here?"

"No," Harry said quietly, looking at the covers of the books upon the coffee table. "It looked like he was after something down in these offices. I saw the tunnels."

"So do you think he's going to come here himself?" asked Lila Brandon in a concerned voice as though she were asking Harry whether he was feeling well.

"I…don't know," Harry admitted. "If you have something he wants badly enough, he might send Death Eaters." The Americans wrinkled their noses. "But if the Death Eaters fail, he could come himself."

"The Dark Lord only places himself at risk when all other methods have failed," said Snape curtly. "If it is merely information he desires, he will kidnap and murder as many of your people as necessary until he finds someone who possesses it."

"They say he uses Legilimency?" asked Congresswoman Leland.

"Proficiently," replied Snape. Harry managed not to shiver.

"But if it's an object he wants, the odds are we'll have Death Eaters trying to get into the MR and D Department," said Spalding.

"MR and D?" asked Harry.

"Magical Research and Development," Lila Brandon explained. "Like your Department of Mysteries—are you okay, honey?" Harry hadn't been able to suppress a shudder.

"The Dark Lord set his sights on something in the Department of Mysteries last year, I heard," said Spalding. Harry nodded, looking at his hands.

The Congresswoman mercifully changed the subject. "So what is it you plan to ask the old U.S. of A. for in the way of help?"

"Anything," Harry heard himself say quietly. "Everything you can give, Aurors or spells or…anything." The words sounded very stupid in his ears, and he was too embarrassed to look up. Why had Dumbledore and McGonagall thought he would be able to accomplish anything asking a bunch of American leaders for help? He didn't know anything about fighting a war!

But to his surprise, Congresswoman Leland patted his hand. "Y'know, a lot of people think we should've gotten involved during the last war. After what happened to Alex, I doubt it'll take much convincing to get their full support. Especially with the request coming from you."

Harry looked at her and felt himself turning red; she grinned. "Hell, just on the cuteness factor alone, they'd probably do what you asked." He turned redder, and her grin got broader. He wished he could sink into the loveseat and die. Snape would never let him forget this. He was relieved when she got up. "Let's start heading down there. Don't be surprised if the people from Darren Hoynes' office want to pick your brains on the way."

Feeling like a marionette being tugged along on strings and saying the things they wanted to hear without really knowing anything, Harry followed her out of the office back into the tunnels. They'd passed a few more doors when several people came out of another office ahead of them, and waited for Leland's group to catch up. "This who I think it is?" asked the man in the gray suit in the lead.

"Harry, this is Congressman Darren Hoynes. He's from my home state. You can grill him later, Darren, let's get to the Committee Room first. This stuff's all confidential."

Behind them, Pat the Scheduler had been attempting without success to chat with Percy, so she finally gave up and came to talk to Harry instead, to his intense embarrassment. "So what's Hogwarts like?" she asked him.

"It's wonderful," Harry said with feeling. "I'd rather be there than anywhere else."

"Including here, huh?" she whispered, grinning slyly at him. "What, celebrity doesn't agree with you?"

"No," said Harry, so firmly that she grinned, and he heard Snape snort behind them.

As Pat shook her head, Harry's eyes were drawn to the dark silver charm she wore around her neck. His heart nearly stopped. It was a solitary pillar, carved intricately, with nothing but a squarish chunk of stone at its top and base.

And Harry had seen it before. "What's…" his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "What's that on your necklace?"

"This?" she held it up. "It's the Pillar of Storgé. Good luck charm. Heard of it?"

"Well…no. I mean…I may have seen it," Harry stammered, trying to keep his near-panic from showing.

Fortunately, Pat was looking at the charm. "Don't see how you could have seen it recently, it's here in the MR and D Department. We've had it for years, not that it's done any good," she chuckled.

"The Ministry of Magic had it before the Americans," Percy put in from behind them.

"Yeah, and your Ministry didn't know what to do with it either," she retorted playfully.

"Then why did they keep it?" Harry asked faintly.

Pat shrugged. "Nobody knows where it comes from. Legend has it that thousands of years ago, ancient sorcerers created a building made of pillars that contained all the most powerful magical forces in existence. What the forces are exactly, we don't know, and how they could be contained in a pillar, we are clueless—and so were your dudes," she added to Percy smugly. "But the story is that if the right person could match the power in one of the pillars, they could tap it and become very, very powerful." She rolled her eyes. "And again, what they mean by someone 'matching' the power in a pillar, we haven't any idea, nor how they could tap it."

"What happened to the other pillars," Harry asked.

"Nobody knows. This is all that's left. But it is true that people who touch the pillar seem to get good luck. Hence the charm," she said, fingering it cheerfully.

Harry swallowed hard. "Interesting," he murmured. "'Scuse me a minute." He slipped back to find Professor Snape.

Snape's eyes narrowed when he saw Harry coming; Harry must have looked rattled. As he opened his mouth to speak, movement behind Snape in the corridor caught Harry's eye. He frowned, looking past Snape, and was startled to see a tiny black kitten following them down the corridor. "Bastet?" he said in surprise, even though Ginny's kitten couldn't possibly be here.

By then, Pat and her Congresswoman were glancing back after Harry and they spotted the kitten. _"HOLY CRAP! LOOK!"_ someone yelled.

The reaction of the Americans confused Harry completely. Wands were brought to bear, and shouts and profanity rang out. Doors flew open up and down the corridor and several people shrieked at the sight of the cat.

"Oh no!"

"Oh, _geez!"_

"Guys, it's here! It's here!"

Snape had no more idea than Harry what was prompting the uproar, but he grabbed Harry and yanked him away from the cat, aiming his wand at it. "Hold up!" shouted Leland. "Won't do any good!"

Snape didn't move, one arm still aiming his wand at the black kitten, the other arm thrown out to keep Harry behind him. What this seemingly-inoffensive cat was, Harry couldn't imagine, but he stood motionless behind Snape and braced himself for the worst. The kitten crept along, sniffing at the air just like Bastet or Crookshanks in an inquisitive mood, then turned its face directly toward Harry.

Harry felt Snape stiffen in front of him, and Leland said in a tense voice, "It's never hurt anyone before."

"The usual rules don't apply with Potter," Snape growled at her. "If it comes any closer, I'll kill it."

"Professor…"

"Shut up, Potter!"

The kitten cocked its head at Harry, regarding him with its yellow eyes for several moments, then turned slowly away and faced the American wizards. Slowly, it began to walk toward them. "Oh man," someone muttered.

"Just let it say its piece, and it'll go," Leland said firmly, never taking her eyes off the cat.

 _Say its piece?_ Harry watched the kitten in confusion. He could hear it purring as it walked leisurely toward the frightened wizards, but then…it began to grow larger. "What the…" Snape muttered.

Now the size of a full-grown cat, the strange creature kept growing until it was as large as Crookshanks, then larger still. Harry noticed that the noise he was hearing wasn't purring anymore. The creature was growling.

The American Congress workers were breathing very heavily, but no one tried to hex the cat, which was now the size of a small tiger, as it stopped directly in front of them. Then it gathered itself on its haunches, and Harry yelled along with everyone else as the thing let out an incredible roar and launched itself into the crowd of wizards.

A jinx from Snape went straight through it as the Americans yelped and ducked, but no one was hit—and no one was scratched or bitten either. As soon as it struck the ground, the creature vanished.

"Aw, hell, I _hate_ it when that thing turns up!" Leland said. She patted a scared young witch who was crying on the floor. "Take it easy, we probably should've expected this." She gestured to Harry, who wished fervently that he had his Invisibility Cloak.

"What was that thing?" he asked.

"Nobody really knows," she told him. "But we do know what it does, and I guess your Professor's right; the usual rules don't apply to you." At Harry's confused look, she explained, "If that cat has two rules, it's that it never actually harms anyone—though a few people have died of heart attacks—and it always jumps at the very first person it sees. It looked right at you and kept going."

"Maybe it's because I'm not American," Harry said desperately.

Several people snorted; they didn't appear to buy the explanation. "But what does it do, other than frighten people to death?" asked Snape.

"It always appears right before a major national crisis," Leland sighed. "Even Muggles see it from time to time." She patted Harry on the shoulder. "Well, that'll be one more reason for the Congress to approve allying with Britain in this war. That cat doesn't lie." She started back down the hall. "All right, people, fun's over, let's get to the committee room!"

It was the sight of Pat, still white-faced and clutching her pendant, that made Harry remember. He caught Professor Snape's arm as they started walking again. "Sir, I think I know what V—what he's after here. Do you know anything about the Pillar of Storgé?"

Snape shot him a disgusted look. "It is one of the more useless artifacts being studied by both British and American wizards, Mr. Potter."

Keeping his voice as low as he could, Harry murmured, "But I saw it. Last night, in a dream. And one of the witches says it's here, in the MR and D Department."


	14. The Pillar of Storge

Harry couldn't remember a time when Snape had seemed more furious with him—and that, naturally, was saying something. The fact that he didn't dare lose his temper in front of the Americans seemed to make him even angrier, so with a tightly-clenched jaw and white face, he growled at Harry, "Do not mention the dream to _anyone_ , do you understand?"

"But shouldn't we warn—"

" _Potter!_ " Snape hissed, grabbing his arm. "You will _not_ speak of it!"

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered.

"We'll deal with this tonight."

The rest of the day was a dismal affair. As much as Katherine Leland, her staff, and the other Wizarding Representatives and Senators tried to make Harry feel welcome, it was obvious that they were all badly rattled by the appearance of the demonic cat. They questioned Harry for hours about Voldemort's methods, about (to Harry's astonishment) whether there was any chance of negotiating a truce with Voldemort—at which Harry's open mouth and Snape's bark of laughter told them more than the actual words.

Harry obeyed Snape's order about not mentioning seeing the Pillar of Storgé in his dream, though he chafed at it. Obviously Voldemort was interested in it for some reason—although Harry this time had no intention of charging into the American Magical Research and Development Department looking for it. Voldemort's false visions had already cost three lives—four, he corrected himself bitterly, thinking of Sirius—and Harry was not going to let himself be fooled again. If Voldemort wanted that Pillar, he'd have to come and get it himself.

By far the worst part of the day came as they were leaving dinner with the Magical Defense Committee. Snape had (to Harry's intense relief) finally managed to garner the interest of a few people in his work as a spy in Voldemort's ranks, and was talking to Congresswoman Leland and several of the other members while two of their staffers gave Harry an animated description of Quodpot, the American variation of Quidditch.

Hisses from the doorway caught their attention, and Harry turned to see Congressmembers and staffers alike making way for a young woman with pale blonde hair and a very drawn face. Harry's heart lurched; she looked very different from the picture he had seen where she was smiling and laughing, but even without the diamond ring hanging from a chain around her neck, he recognized her. It was Anita Green, Alex Marshall's fiancée.

She distractedly scanned the room, and inevitably, her eyes fell on Harry. Everyone was very quiet as she came toward him, mustering a smile. "Hi…I'm Anita. I was engaged to Alex Marshall."

"I know," Harry murmured, unable to meet her red-rimmed eyes.

Wringing her hands a bit, she said, "I just…wanted to thank you. For telling us about Alex. They said…if you hadn't warned us, they might never've found him."

"You're…I'm sorry…for," Harry couldn't bring himself to say "for your loss," or anything. It seemed so cold.

Fortunately she understood, or perhaps she was still too distracted to really hear him. "Thanks," she said. "For everything." And with one more weak smile, she slipped back out.

* * *

 

With that encounter to cap an utterly miserable day, Harry wanted nothing more than to collapse once they returned to the hotel.

Driving back out of the city, the white buildings and Capitol dome glowed against the night sky, but now the aura of power exuded by the place had an ominous feel. Not from the city itself, but rather as though something terrible and deadly was about to lay siege to it. Tonight, its light and strange beauty had the fateful feel of a city doomed. Harry couldn't be sure if it was merely his own mood, or if the enchantments of the American Founders were giving a warning of their own along with the unearthly cat.

And then, of course, Harry had to face the music when they finally arrived at the hotel. Percy looked as tired as Harry felt, but Snape muttered at him, "Before you retire, Weasley, you and I must have a little _chat_ with Mr. Potter."

So Harry walked slowly ahead of them into his room like one walking to his own execution, only to be seized painfully by the arm and yanked into the center of the sitting area as Snape let out the temper he'd been visibly holding in check all day. _"Why in God's name didn't you mention that dream?"_

"Dream?" Percy exclaimed behind Snape. "What dream!"

Snape gestured imperiously at Harry to speak, so he stammered, "I saw the Pillar of Storgé in a dream last night. And the tunnels under the buildings like when V—when he was attacking Alex Marshall. I think that could be what he wants."

"Rubbish," said Percy. "The secret Magical Research departments of wizarding governments are teeming with artifacts far more powerful and valuable."

"But you said no one really knows what the Pillar is or what it could do," Harry protested. "Maybe Voldemort's found out how to harness it!"

Snape winced at hearing Harry say the name and grabbed his arm again, "Which brings us _again_ to the question of why you said nothing!"

In a small voice, Harry replied, "I forgot."

Spitting in disgust, Snape let go of Harry and went to French doors opening onto a screened balcony. He stood there silently for several minutes, and Harry was wondering what he was thinking when there was a flash of fire, and Fawkes appeared. Percy and Harry both jumped. Snape pulled out a parchment and wrote on it for several moments, then handed it to the phoenix. Fawkes took it and vanished in another burst of flame.

"I've reported this to the Headmaster," Snape informed Harry coldly. "And if you have any more dreams or visions, kindly do not _forget_ to report them, unless keeping such secrets makes you feel so important you cannot bear to part with them."

Harry gritted his teeth and turned away. Then something occurred to him, and he sighed. "There is something else. It may be nothing. When we were leaving tonight, the city felt different. It felt…afraid."

Snape dropped his sour expression and looked hard at Harry, questions visibly running across his eyes. "The _city_ felt afraid?"

Harry shrugged. "Like I said, it might be nothing. It was just a sense I had as we were driving away."

Percy was frowning too. "Do the Americans place much stock in that demon cat of theirs?"

Turning away back toward the window with his hands behind his back, Snape said, "I vaguely recalled a few references to the cat before today, but yes, from what they told me, it appears to be a reliable warning of national catastrophe, Muggle or magical."

"So V—so _he_ could be after something in the MR and D Department?" Harry asked.

"It appears likely, though it would have _helped_ if we had known about your vision _before_ coming here," Snape growled. Harry scowled sullenly at the floor. "Because generally speaking, the event occurs within twenty-four hours of the cat's appearance."

"So is the city reacting to the cat's warning, or is it giving a warning of its own?" Percy mused.

"A warning?" Harry asked.

"The wards and spells permeating Washington, DC include a variety of ways to detect approaching danger," said Percy. "American wizards tend toward overkill."

"And yet wizarding America has never been invaded—and even Muggle America has remained relatively secure," said Snape, giving Percy a patronizing look over his shoulder.

Percy made a dismissive noise. "Only because no one competent has ever tried to invade them. I would wager their protection comes from oceans rather than any really powerful magic."

"Do not underestimate the value of 'overkill,' Weasley," Snape growled, but then he began pacing. Harry stepped quickly out of his way, not wanting Snape to remember he was there and stop being informative. "My concern is that the Dark Lord will not underestimate the value of their overconfidence. They are very well protected, yes, but pride cometh before the fall—and the Dark Lord will most likely prove a competent invader."

Harry forgot about being inconspicuous in his shock. "You think he'll _invade_ the United States?"

Snape scowled at Harry. "When last I _heard,_ " he said in a tone that reminded Harry he was the reason Snape no longer knew what Voldemort was up to, "the Dark Lord was amassing followers all across wizarding Europe. The American Wizarding government is small, Potter, you met them all tonight. But they are powerful and possess great resources. That is the reason they would make so formidable an ally for us. If the Dark Lord struck them first and overthrew them…"

"He could use their power against us," Harry finished, and groaned. "Could that be why he's been so quiet in Britain?"

"Possibly," Snape paced some more. "Though he'll have a devil of a time getting Washington itself under his control—unless he already has found some way to subdue it."

Baffled, Harry said, "You make it sound like the city's alive!"

"I marvel at your stupidity sometimes, Potter. You may have been raised by idiot Muggles, but have you learned nothing about enchanted objects in over five years?"

"Apparently not, so perhaps you'll enlighten me to your wisdom," Harry shot back.

Snape gave him a ferocious glare, then leaned close to him and drawled out, "If you had been paying attention during our arrival, you would have heard Mr. Spalding explaining that the American capital is the most warded and enchanted city in the world. Objects and places enchanted with great amounts of magical power—particularly protective power—do, in fact, develop a semi-awareness, like the primitive instincts of a magical plant. If an extremely powerful, hostile force is targeting Washington, DC with unfriendly attentions, there can be no doubt that the city itself will display some reaction."

Then there was a flash of fire, and a parchment fell to the floor. Snape snatched it up. "The Headmaster does not believe it is advisable to depart precipitously just yet. But he cautions us to be on our guard."

"And Minister Fudge?" Percy asked pointedly.

Snape crumpled the parchment in his hand. "The Minister concurs," he said in a way that made Harry suspect there had been nothing about Fudge written in Dumbledore's note.

Evidently, it was good enough for Percy, and he turned a hard gaze toward Harry. "I wonder…is it possible You-Know-Who's attention has been drawn to America by his presence?"

The words struck Harry like a Winding Hex, but Snape looked calculatingly at him too. "It is possible, although the kidnapping of Marshall occurred before Potter had any interest in Wizarding America."

"But the city's aura didn't change until after we arrived," Percy pressed.

The implication was all too clear, and Harry turned away. "It's not my fault," he muttered, not referring to Voldemort's interest in America.

Percy dropped his formal pretensions. "Of _course,_ it's your fault!" he snapped, advancing on Harry. Even Snape looked startled. "How dare you put them at risk with your antics?"

"I didn't _choose_ for any of this to happen!" Harry yelled, spinning around. "No one _told me_ what Voldemort wanted with me!" That remark he directed at Snape. "If I'd known he wasn't going to leave me alone I would've kept them away from me! But no one thought I ought to know! Don't you bloody blame me for being kept in the dark—your precious Ministry did it just as often as Dumbledore! Your family wouldn't be in the thick of this if anyone had _warned_ me!"

"But you still drag them along with you!" Percy shot back.

Harry couldn't seem to get his breathing under control. Knowing how much danger Ron and Ginny and their family were in was bad enough without Percy implying Harry didn't care. Shaking with anger, he hissed, "It's too late now. If I never spoke to them again from right now, it'd still be too late. And at least _I've_ never turned my back on them!"

The words came out before he could check them, and Percy recoiled. Harry was shaken just as badly, so before Percy could recover, he threw open the French doors, stalked out onto the balcony, and slammed them shut behind him.

He sat out there in a wicker rocking chair (rocking rather vigorously) for a long time with the heavy, humid air and distant thunder matching his mood. How could anyone clear their head in this sweltering climate? It wasn't helping his agitation, but he had no intention of enduring one more second of Percy or Snape's company voluntarily. He wiped sweat off his face, short of breath and frustrated, and hating himself for the partial truth of Percy's words. Harry was the reason the Weasleys were in danger. But if someone had bothered to _tell_ him from the beginning, he'd never have let them get so close.

Or so he tried to convince himself, even though, try as he might, he could not seem to imagine himself existing without Ron. Or Ginny. Or the twins and their jokes and the Marauders' Map, or Mrs. Weasley and her hugs.

Eventually, a breeze picked up as the storm drew nearer, pushing away the worst of the sticky heat, and Harry slowed down his rocking. He was tired and he didn't want to think anymore.

He had just started to drift into a drowsy stupor when the French doors slammed open. "Inside, Potter."

"Why?" he grumped.

His belligerence must have startled Snape, because it was a moment before he answered. "Occlumency."

 _God, not that, not here, not now!_ "No."

Snape materialized in front of him, blocking his view of the swaying trees. " _What_ did you say, Potter?"

Harry glowered up at him. "I said no. Being stuck here with you is bad enough without your rubbing my nose in nightmares. Besides, I'm not supposed to use magic while we're here." He sneered insolently at Snape. "What are you going to do, take House points?"

Snape drew himself up, practically shaking with fury at Harry's defiance. "Do you think I _won't_ , Mr. Potter?" he hissed.

Harry leapt to his feet heatedly. "Do you think I _care?_ Between all this half-baked diplomacy, demon cats, and _Voldemort,_ " he enjoyed seeing Snape flinch, "do you think House points matter a jot to me anymore?"

"No, Potter, I suppose your massive ego spares very little consideration for the desires of your Housemates, but after that display to Weasley, I would have thought you at least cared somewhat for your friends' safety."

Leave it to Snape. Before Harry could pull together a retort, Snape had grabbed him by the arm and was yanking him bodily back into the room. "Get _off!_ " he raged. "Get your hands off me! Let _go!"_

Snape did. Hard. Harry stumbled away, seething, and Snape pointed at the rug directly in front of him. "Clear your mind—now. And give me your wand," he growled.

Harry froze. "What?"

"As you so aptly noted, you are not permitted to use it here," Snape snatched it from him. "You will defend yourself without it, as you showed you are at least somewhat capable of doing."

In a surge of panic, Harry knew he would never be able to shield himself without a wand while in this state of mind. "No," he whispered.

Snape ignored him. "One—two—three— _Legilimens!_ "

Sirius was falling through the veil, his face mingling surprise and fear…Uncle Vernon lay lifeless on the floor of Number Four, Privet Drive, his face a mask of terror…Cedric's face, his open gray eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of a deserted house, his half-open mouth, which looked slightly surprised…Harry couldn't stop it, he couldn't even _begin_ to stop it!

 _CRASH!_ A window-rattling crack of thunder had broken Snape's concentration. Harry fell to his knees, doubled over and shaking, his breath hitching badly. "I can't do it," he choked out. "Just stop, I can't do it!"

"Then you will merely be an easy victim for the Dark Lord, Potter, so why should that concern me? _Legili_ _—_ "

"— _No!_ " Harry looked up desperately. Snape sneered down at him, but paused. Harry couldn't stand it anymore. He drew a shaky breath. "Please, just stop."

The sneer grew. Harry dropped his head, his eyes burning. "You're pathetic, Potter," he heard Snape say, then his wand was dropped carelessly to the floor in front of him, and footsteps crossed the room and went out.

* * *

 

Snape was almost cheerful the next day when Spalding arrived to drive them back to the Capitol. Obviously, reducing Harry practically to the point of begging was a memory the Potions Master would cherish for a long time.

Spalding noticed Harry's long face, but Harry dismissed it as being tired. "You'll perk up after breakfast," Spalding told him.

The weather had cleared again overnight, and the sky was sparkling blue once again. But Harry noticed coming back into Washington that something still felt wrong. The sensation of dread he had felt last night had given way to an eerie silence that had nothing to do with the fact that it was Sunday—it felt as if the entire city was holding its breath.

He caught Spalding watching him in the rear-view mirror again, so he said what he was thinking: "Something's going to happen."

"Bet on it, kid," said Spalding grimly. "Any ideas as to what?" he asked the three of them.

"Yes. We will discuss it at the breakfast meeting," said Snape shortly. Harry refused to look at him, but wondered if Dumbledore wanted them to mention the Pillar of Storgé. The only time he'd spoken to Snape this morning was to say that he'd seen the Pillar in his dreams again last night. Snape had just smirked. As usual.

He got his answer while they were eating breakfast with nearly the entire American Wizarding Congress. Word of the cat and the mood of the city had brought them all swarming to the Capitol to figure out what was going on, and so the schedule had been revised a bit. Harry was listening to them debating over whether he himself was the cause or just another warning of impending disaster when Snape suggested to them, "Ask Mr. Potter to tell you about his most recent dream."

One hundred fifty faces turned to stare at Harry. He gulped. "A new dream?" asked Gabe Maury, the Wizarding Senator whom Alex Marshall had worked for.

Putting down his fork, Harry nodded nervously. He didn't speak very loudly, but the room was so silent that everyone heard him. "I saw the underground corridors again in the dream, and went down them. There was a dark room with an old, stone pillar in it. I think it's the Pillar of Storgé."

Incredulous murmurs rippled up and down the long tables. "He's after the Pillar of _Storgé?_ " exclaimed someone. "We've got better stuff than that!"

"Doesn't matter why, but if he wants it, we'd better make sure he doesn't get it!"

"Should we move it?"

"Hell, let's just destroy it!"

"Or maybe that's what he wants."

"Young man," said a dumpy little bug-eyed witch who was as short as Congresswoman Leland—but with none of her charisma. "Haven't some of these visions of yours been false?"

Harry winced, and a few of the others shot the witch annoyed glances, but many reluctantly nodded. "Yes," he told them. "Sometimes they have been. That's why you probably shouldn't try anything just yet if we're not sure why V—why he's interested in it."

"You're not a strategist, Potter," Snape muttered at him. "Confine yourself to answering their questions."

"Don't say that, Professor Snape, I for one think Harry's got more experience with that dirtbag than any of us. If he's got suggestions, good or bad, I wanna hear 'em," said Congresswoman Leland.

"Unless he's the reason Lord…Thingy is coming here," said the bug-eyed witch in a quarrelsome tone.

"Impossible, Alex got kidnapped before Harry had the vision," said Senator Maury.

"Maybe he wanted to lure the kid here," the bug-eyed witch persisted.

"Seems a long way to lure him," snorted Darren Hoynes.

"But he—"

"Pipe down, would ya, this isn't the time for sound bytes!" snapped Congresswoman Leland, and the bug-eyed witch subsided with a scowl. "What's your impression, Harry? Do you think this vision is probably real or fake?"

Harry contemplated the tablecloth, thinking hard. "I…the times I've had fake visions, it was to get me—us—to _do_ something. But there've been real ones that seem a lot like this, where I kept dreaming of something because V—because You-Know-Who was obsessed with it. This dream's a lot like that—but it could still be fake!" he added hastily.

"Could he be any less specific," grumbled the bug-eyed witch.

"I'm about thirty seconds away from turning her into a tree frog," muttered Congresswoman Leland, but she patted Harry's hand. "Disclaimer noted. And we should count ourselves lucky," she said to the room, raising her voice. "This is more warning than most people get from You-Know-Who."

There were mutters of agreement, and the faces watching Harry began to look a little less accusing. "Maybe we should take the kid to see the Pillar," someone suggested. "Might give him a hint."

"No!" Harry exclaimed, so sharply that people jumped. "I mean…once one of the fake visions got me to go somewhere, and Death Eaters were waiting."

"Well, we can't just do nothing!" protested Anita Green.

"Maybe that's exactly what we should do," said Senator Maury. "Until we know more about what he wants with us, we should leave it and concentrate on aiding the Ministry against whatever the bastard gets up to over there."

"But if we jump into it with the Ministry, we'll be inviting him to come after us sooner," said the bug-eyed witch. "Why get ourselves involved if we want him to leave us alone—"

"—He _won't_ leave you alone!" Harry chorused with Snape. They glanced at each other, and Harry fell silent.

"The Dark Lord does not believe in 'live and let live,'" said Snape. "Every second you fail to oppose him is borrowed time; he _will_ set his sights upon America. You already know of one object in your possession he may desire, and you have admitted yourselves that there are more. Your wizarding society is too powerful for him to leave alone."

His fierce announcement cowed the bug-eyed witch somewhat, but she still mumbled, "He left us alone last time."

"That's because he got himself un-bodied by trying to kill Harry Potter," said Congresswoman Leland. "You remember the trials—there were Death Eaters all across Eurasia. He'd have come for us eventually."

"Why not put it to a damn vote?" someone exclaimed.

"What exactly are we voting on?" demanded Senator Maury.

Congresswoman Leland leaned her head against her hand with her elbow on the table, rubbing her chin. "Whether or not to mess with the Pillar based on the information we've got, and whether or not to send general war aid to the British Ministry."

"Hell, sounds good to me."

"Are we in session today?"

"We've got nearly the whole Congress, let's call it an emergency measure and move on!"

"All righty," Congresswoman Leland cut off the conversations and turned to Harry, Snape, and Percy. "Gentlemen, we're going to take a few preliminary votes on this. While you're waiting, Harry, would you like a quick tour?"

"I…all right," said Harry, glancing at Snape.

"Pat, give our guests a walk around the Capitol. Be sure and take Don Spalding's people with you."

So Harry, Snape, and Percy were chased out the door, and Pat and Spalding led them back through the basement tunnels, this time under the sign that read, **To U.S. Capitol.**

They came up from the basement into one of the most beautiful buildings Harry had ever seen—and almost all Muggle-built, according to Pat and Spalding.

"The designer was a wizard, though," Pat told Harry. "And still sore about his bill not getting paid; we might run into his ghost at some point." She told Harry stories about the origins of some of the more spectacular murals and carvings on the walls, led them past an old-fashioned bathroom that still smelled of soap, and introduced Harry to the statues, who sometimes bowed or waved as they passed. "Each time a new President is inaugurated, they throw themselves their own Ball," she said. "I've never seen it, but only six of the statues are women, so their dance cards are full all night. They say it's marvelous!"

In the rotunda itself, while Harry was staring at a massive mural of the American Founding Fathers, sounds of arguing floated in. He turned to see two ghosts dressed not unlike the men in the painting, debating vigorously. Pat hissed, and even Spalding looked impressed. "Who're they?" Harry whispered.

"Two former Presidents," Pat murmured.

The ghosts spotted them and glided over. "Good gracious, is that Harry Potter?" asked the man on the left.

"Yes, Mr. President," said Pat in a reverent voice. "Harry, may I present President John Quincy Adams and President James Garfield."

"A pleasure, young man," said Adams, inclining his head. "We've all heard of you here, of course."

Harry was startled. "Wizards were elected President?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Garfield winked. "Our generation believed in a closer coexistence with our Muggle brethren, if still keeping magic itself a secret. American wizards weren't banned from seeking Muggle office until 1882—and _I_ opposed that law," he added haughtily.

"I did not," said Adams. "Muggles had a right to elect their own leaders—and you of all people ought to have known the drawbacks!"

"It was a wizard who assassinated me, you imbecile! And _we_ had a right to full participation…" they glided off. Pat watched them go in awe. Snape and Percy looked scornful.

Visibly pulling herself together, Pat said, "Let's move on; there's a nice view from that—"

Harry's scar suddenly flared with fiery pain, and he gasped, doubling over. "Potter!" Snape grabbed his shoulders.

"Something—think—he's here—" Harry choked out. His head felt ready to explode.

"You-Know-Who!" cried Pat.

"Is this real?" Spalding demanded to Snape.

"You'd best assume so," Snape growled.

"Sound general alarm! Evacuate the Muggles, lock down the conference room!" Spalding grabbed one of Harry's arms, and he and Snape pulled Harry upright. "Let's go!"

Blinking back tears of pain, Harry forced himself into a jog along with the guards, pulling out his wand. "Where will we go?"

"Security room—we've got 'em all over the building in case of magical intruders. Come on, come on, Pat, keep up!" Spalding barked, leading them down a magnificent staircase.

They came into another hallway full of statues, but one of them—the statues, that is—shouted, "Watch out! Hostiles ahead of you!"

Spalding spat an obscenity and yanked Harry back. "Other way!"

"Better get off this floor, Donald!" another statue of a man with a rifle warned.

"Are the elevators secured?" Spalding demanded.

"Take the freight elevator!" the statue with the rifle pointed, and Snape and Spalding lunged for the lift doors with Harry between them.

"Here they come!" shouted another, and Harry peered past the guards to see Death Eaters charging down the hall.

"There they are!" screamed a woman's voice. Harry felt a surge of hatred that was entirely his own—it was Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Stall them!" Spalding yelled, and the statues all leapt from their pedestals, some waving swords and rifles as they charged the Death Eaters. Spalding and the others piled into the lift with Harry and slammed the doors. Harry felt it descending.

Spalding tapped his badge with his wand, and his identification picture—Harry noticed close-up that it was actually a tiny portrait—looked up. "Problem?"

"Donny, hit the control room and find us a way out of here, fast!"

"Gotcha!" the picture Spalding vanished. The lift kept dropping. A moment later, the picture returned. "They're on all levels, we're at Condition Red." The guards and Pat began swearing under their breath. "Get off at the bottom level and head for the old Metro connection. No hostile entry at Eastern Market yet, you can get out there."

"Right, get me updates," said Spalding, and punched a button.

"What's your plan?" asked Snape.

"We're going out via a closed-off Muggle tunnel off MR and D, it connects to the regular Metro, if we can just get there before our masked friends. How's your head, Harry? Can you run?"

"I'll manage," Harry muttered.

"Get ready to haul ass," Spalding warned as the lift ground to a halt. The doors rolled open. "Go!"

They charged out of the lift and tore into a dimly-lit corridor that reminded Harry far too much of the Department of Mysteries. Moreover, his scar was getting worse. A portrait on the wall shouted at them, "Watch out, people, there's a seriously nasty character up ahead, heading straight for you!"

"Donny!" Spalding yelled at his own portrait.

"Monitors aren't showing anything!" the portrait protested.

Harry's scar was on fire. "It's Voldemort!" he gasped.

"Okay, now we're in trouble," Spalding growled, wheeling around and yanking Harry the other way. "Donny, ideas?"

"Bad news, MR and D's the only place still clear—the defenses took out two Death Eaters there."

Snape was muttering curses under his breath, looking back over his shoulder. "Given Potter's dreams, I question the wisdom of heading down that alley."

"Other exits are blocked," said Donny the portrait. "Unless you wanna take your chances with You-Know-Who."

"If he hasn't managed to get inside yet, we've got that much an advantage," said Spalding, not slowing at all. "Here, down here!" They came upon the two motionless, masked wizards on the floor. "If the defenses hold him out long enough, we might make it." He pressed his badge against a sign that read, **Magical Research and Development, No Entry Without Authorization.** The door swung open at once. "Come on, move, move!" they hustled through and pelted down the hall.

Harry's scar was throbbing so badly that he could barely stay upright. Snape had him by one arm, Spalding by the other as they ran. "He's coming," he gasped.

"Shut up and run, Potter," said Snape.

There was a thunderous crash behind them. "Uh-oh!" squeaked Pat.

"Quiet!" Spalding snapped, but then Donny came back.

"Gotta problem, Don, they're outside the south exit window!"

The Americans skidded to a halt. "Oh…crap!" Spalding growled as Harry and Snape hissed and looked behind them. Harry could feel Voldemort coming.

"What now?" Snape demanded.

"Please don't say we're trapped," Pat groaned.

"Then cover your ears, girl," Spalding retorted and rapped on a portrait. "HEY! Ben! Need help here!"

An immensely fat, balding man poked his head into view, peering at them over his bifocals. "Oh dear, Mr. Spalding, what are you doing down here?"

"We've got a Dark Lord behind us and Death Eaters blocking the exits. What's the most warded section in here?"

"Try the Muggle Methods laboratory—it is as well warded as any but less conspicuous. A dark wizard will likely seek you in the Defensive Development areas."

"Quick, let's go!" Spalding led them down the hall.

"What's this place you're taking us to?" demanded Percy.

"Muggle Methods—combining Muggle technology with magic—illegal in Britain. Franklin's got good instincts," Spalding said. "One corridor over—"

Donny appeared in the badge. "Don! _Heads up!_ "

"Get down!" Spalding threw Harry into the wall as four Death Eaters came charging down the corridor in front of them. _"Impedimenta!"_

Harry couldn't see much past Snape's robes and the guard practically pinning him on the floor, but he felt as though there was a knife in his forehead. "He's coming!" he grunted.

Arms hauled him to his feet. " _Petrificus_ _Totalis!_ Move! Move!" Spalding yanked them down a side corridor as two of the other guards held the Death Eaters back. "How close is he?"

"Not a clue!" said Donny, and Harry just shook his head.

"What do we do?" came Percy's frightened voice.

"Keep running! Snape, get the kid ahead of us!"

Snape hauled Harry to the lead as curses rang out behind them. Suddenly, Harry blundered against another door, and came to a halt, looking back. His scar had stopped hurting! Yet something told him they were not out of danger. "Professor?"

"Potter, _what are you doing! Run!"_

"Wait! My scar—"

_"Tantellagra!"_

_"Stupefy!"_

_"Expelliarmus!"_

The noise was making it difficult to think, but Harry had both hands against the door. It was as though something inside was calling him, and blocking the pain from his scar. Snape fired off a few curses at the Death Eaters now gathering in force at the end of the hallway. Pat was stifling sobs of terror against the wall next to them, with Percy ashen-faced on her other side. "Potter!" Snape barked. "What about your scar!"

"I think…" Harry touched the door again. "I think we might be safe in here!"

 _"What?_ "

Spalding looked over his shoulder at them. "The Pillar's down there!"

Harry and Snape stared at each other. "Perhaps that's why he wants it," Snape muttered. "Spalding! Open this door!"

Spalding ran over and tested it with his badge. "Damn! They must've sealed it off when the attack began!"

"Oh no," Harry groaned, putting his hand on the handle.

The door opened. "What the _hell…_ " Spalding gaped at Harry, but Snape pushed it open and yanked him inside. They could hear Spalding shouting, "Come on, come on!" behind them as the rest dashed in. "Donny, we need reinforcements down here!"

"Wait! Slow down, Potter, until we know what this thing is," Snape said, pulling Harry back. They reached the end of the hall, and another door swung open on its own accord to reveal a dimly-lit room containing the stone Pillar Harry had seen in his dreams. There were no Death Eaters as far as Harry could see, but his scar was prickling, even though he felt something was blocking the pain.

"Voldemort's behind us."

"Then we'll take our chances," Snape grunted, and they ran into the Pillar room.

A curse was shrieked out in a hissing voice, and the wall just above and behind the Pillar exploded. Spalding was yelling at them to run, just run, and Snape threw Harry behind him and turned to face the Death Eaters and his former master. Harry stayed in back of Snape, but drew his wand. _"Impedimenta!"_

Several Death Eaters stumbled, and Pat ducked past Harry, gulping back her sobs, to hide behind the Pillar. "Careful!" Percy pointed. Harry looked.

The Pillar was glowing.

The reinforcements must have come; some of the Death Eaters had turned around and were shooting curses in the opposite direction. Voldemort was in there somewhere—Harry could feel him—but did not seem to be going after Harry or Snape themselves. Rather, he kept aiming curses at the Pillar!

One smashed into the wall close to Pat, and she yelped and lost her balance. "Watch out!" Harry cried in alarm as she stumbled against the Pillar and Percy tried to grab her.

Snape looked back. Pat gasped as her shoulder struck the stone, but then froze, staring at the Pillar with wide eyes. An instant later, Percy's hand brushed the stone, and he too went rigid. While Pat seemed to almost smile amidst the chaos of curses, crashes, and flashes of light, Percy's eyes filled with tears. "Pat? Percy?" Harry whispered in alarm.

Pat blinked and realized there was a battle going on. With obvious effort, she broke away from the Pillar, drew her wand, and began firing curses at the Death Eaters. She was not very good at fighting, but it was still one more person harrying them. Percy took a moment longer, but he too rejoined the fight.

"What is that thing?" Snape yelled at him. "Potter, stay back!" Percy didn't answer. There was a very strange look on his face, while Pat simply seemed galvanized—until a curse caught her in the shoulder.

Harry ran to pull her back. "Potter, I said stay behind me!" Snape shouted, running after Harry. He let Harry pull Pat behind the Pillar, and growled, "Stay behind this thing—" he pulled Harry to the ground as a curse impacted the wall right where their heads had been. As he steadied himself, one hand touched the Pillar, and he frowned.

"Professor?" Harry exclaimed.

"Nothing," said Snape, tapping it again. With a shrug, he went back to stand in front of Harry.

Harry peered out from behind him, and saw Voldemort appear through the chaos, aiming his wand at Snape. "Out of the way, Severus, and I may let you live."

"Go to hell," said Snape. He was just standing there!

Voldemort hissed an incantation. Snape blocked it, but staggered. Another followed, and another. Harry watched, frozen in shock. Snape was a good dueler, better than Harry would have ever imagined, but not good enough—a curse finally caught him in the arm, sending him tumbling to the ground and his wand flying from his hand.

Panic jerked Harry out of his paralysis; Snape was going to be killed! Nobody but Dumbledore had ever faced off with Voldemort in an outright duel—Snape wouldn't last thirty seconds! Frantically, as Voldemort raised his wand, Harry fired a Stunner past Snape at him. Voldemort dodged it easily. "Professor, go!"

"Shut up, Potter!"

Voldemort's red eyes fixed on Harry behind the Pillar, and with a snake-like hiss, he took aim. Snape staggered to his feet between the Dark Lord and Harry, trying to conjure a shield. "No!" Harry made to run out from behind the Pillar to help, stumbling over debris on the ground and inadvertently putting a hand on the Pillar to steady himself.

The Pillar of Storgé exploded into millions of fragments with a deafening _boom_ , showering them in all directions with a force that threw Harry backward into the wall, sending his glasses flying off.

It should killed him. It should at least have blasted the skin right off his face or given him a few broken ribs.

But it did not. It didn't even hurt.

Sprawled on the floor where he'd fallen, Harry looked up, blinking and trying to see through the cloud of dust. He could not feel Voldemort anymore, but…something _else_ was there. Something very different. Harry looked around, sensing a presence, very close, but not altogether unfamiliar. Then the strangest sensation took over, and he forgot all about Voldemort, about the battle, about being afraid of anything at all.

_It will be all right…_

No one had said it. He was sure of that. But he felt it as surely as if they had. He couldn't see anyone for the dust in the air, but he was certain that arms were holding him, sheltering him, keeping him protected in a fierce embrace.

Never in his life had he felt so safe. So loved. He closed his eyes and let the arms hold him. He had no idea how much time passed until the smoke and dust settled, but he was content to stay nestled in the sheltering arms forever.

Eventually, he heard voices calling him. "Harry? Harry, are you hurt? Harry!"

Harry blinked. The arms were gone, and he felt a little dazed, not sure what had happened. He was lying amid the rubble. Percy emerged out of the fog, holding Harry's glasses. Behind Percy hovered Snape, staring at Harry, his face mingling shock and even fear. American wizards were running toward them, all talking at once. "Son, are you okay?"

"What happened? Why'd they leave?"

"Damned if I know! He was winning!"

Snape pushed past the approaching Americans and asked in a low voice, "Potter, are you hurt?"

Harry looked himself over. "N-no. What—where's Voldemort?"

Snape didn't even flinch. "Gone. Do you feel him?"

Everyone was coughing from the dust except for Harry. He rubbed his scar experimentally, then shook his head. "Nothing." Snape took Harry's arms almost gently and helped him to his feet.

Coming through the entrance to the Pillar room were members of the Wizarding Congress with Kate Leland in the lead. She took in the pile of rubble that had been the Pillar, and the uninjured Harry, and shook her head. "Wow, kiddo. I guess the usual rules _really_ don't apply to you."

"What happened?" he asked in confusion, looking at Snape, Percy, and Spalding's men. They were all wide-eyed, staring at him.

"Who were those—" Spalding began, but Snape made a sharp gesture at him, and he stopped.

"Potter, what did you see?"

"See?" Harry blinked, taking his glasses from Percy. "I didn't see anything—why?"

Snape shook his head. "Never mind. What do you remember?"

 _Someone hugging me._ "I just felt like something was there," Harry said carefully. "It was…a presence. But it wasn't hostile. Felt like it was…protecting me." Heaven only knew what Snape would make of it next time he got into Harry's head. Or maybe… _blimey, that feeling might just be enough to beat him at Occlumency!_ The others were exchanging incredulous glances. "Did you see something?"

Snape was glaring hard at Percy, who replied slowly, "I'm not sure…the dust was doing strange things. We couldn't reach you for several minutes."

"That was minutes?" Harry exclaimed. They nodded, leading him from the room. "Strange, it felt—" As they came out of the small hallway back into the main MR and D corridor, Harry broke off with a gasp as agony lanced into his scar.

Fury, white-hot fury ripped through him…such utter infuriated, frustrated rage that he threw back his head and screamed at the top of his lungs…roaring at the ceiling…his anger would make the very sky crash down…

His scar had burst open…it was the nightmare to end all nightmares, one that even Snape had never seen…only Dumbledore had seen Harry like this…locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, fused together, bound by pain beyond imagining, pain beyond endurance…

_"Severus…behold now your wasted efforts…"_

Harry had no control over his body, if it even was his body, he couldn't even draw breath, he was suffocating…

_"He is mine, Severus…you have no choice but to destroy him…"_

In his agony, Harry felt someone seize him—or did they seize the creature—dragging him backwards…

_"Fool! You cannot escape me forever…you will die in the end…"_

Then it was as if something wedged itself between Harry's body and the creature's coils and forced them away; the pain vanished, and Harry dropped like a stone. Someone caught him and eased him, shivering, to the floor. "Send for Albus Dumbledore from Hogwarts. Now."

"God Almighty, what _was_ that!"

"Quiet, y'all, quiet! Do _not_ discuss this!"

Harry was so cold; he felt someone wrap something warm around him. "Potter, do you hear me?"

Forcing his eyes open, he made out a blurry image of Snape, holding him in a sitting position, staring intently at him. "I…yeah…" he drew his knees up to his chest, trying to stop shaking. "Where are—how did—"

"We are in the entrance to the Pillar chamber; it appears to be shielding you."

There was a woman kneeling next to him, rubbing his cold hands. "Oh, sweetie, what did that bastard do to you?" She urged him to sit back against the wall, and Snape pulled the blanket tighter around him. Blinking at her, Harry realized it was Congresswoman Leland. She smiled tentatively at his confused face. "You scared the bejeezus out of us."

"Harry?" said a voice from the entryway. It was Dumbledore, silhouetted against bright lights that were now burning in the outer corridor. Harry could hear many people hovering around outside. Dumbledore came swiftly into the narrow hallway and knelt in front of Harry, looking to Snape and Congresswoman Leland. "What happened?"

"Well, let's just say he's a lot cuter with green eyes," said the Congresswoman dryly.

"Voldemort," sighed Harry, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself and leaning back against the stone wall. "Again."

"Again—my God, that's happened before!"

"Alas, it has, Katherine," said Dumbledore. "But as you may well imagine, these incidents could well be used by others to harm Harry. I trust we may rely on your colleagues' discretion?"

She nodded gravely. "I'll handle it."

"Thank you," Dumbledore grasped her hand. "Severus?"

Snape was frowning at the doorway. "Whatever force was in the Pillar is still shielding him from the Dark Lord, but as soon as we came out…I don't know what will happen when he leaves it again."

Dumbledore rose and went to the doorway of the Pillar chamber, taking in the wreckage. "Am I to understand this room was home to the Pillar of Storgé?"

"That's right," said Congresswoman Leland. "I didn't see what happened. One of my staffers says she felt something that made her fear go away, and the Weasley boy reacted to it as well. And _everyone_ says the thing exploded the minute Harry bumped into it."

Dumbledore turned back to them. "Severus? Did you happen to touch it?"

Snape nodded, frowning. "I felt nothing, though the stone was slightly warm."

"Did you…" Dumbledore glanced at Harry, "see anything?" Snape gave him an unreadable look, and Dumbledore did not press the issue. Harry felt too worn out to be curious. "And Lord Voldemort?"

"I have never seen him so enraged," said Snape. "But he watched the Pillar explode, then did not pursue his attack. Both Potter and I must have been vulnerable at that moment."

"I believe, Severus, there were forces at work in that room that even Voldemort could not contend with."

"What was it?" Harry asked wearily, closing his eyes. "I felt something…"

"Yes, I imagine you did. I also imagine you would like to go home now."

Harry opened his eyes a crack and saw that Dumbledore was smiling. He let himself smile back. "Yes. Please."

"Headmaster, what happens when he leaves this place again?"

Dumbledore knelt in front of Harry again, who was feeling a twinge of apprehension about leaving this odd sanctuary. "Harry, do you remember what you felt after the Pillar was destroyed?"

The recollection was overwhelming; Harry nodded. "What—" Congresswoman Leland began.

"Shh. Can you concentrate on that feeling, on that memory, for a little while? It should be more than enough to dissuade Lord Voldemort from attacking you again."

Harry sighed, fighting the desire to crawl back into that room and let the arms wrap around him again. He'd never imagined anything could feel better than Mrs. Weasley holding him, but what he had felt there...no, he would never forget. It would be hard to _not_ concentrate on it. But he let Dumbledore and Leland help him to his feet and lead him back to the main corridor. "Professor?" he asked nervously.

"Don't be afraid, Harry. Remember what you felt."

So Harry closed his eyes for a moment, letting his mind sink into those blissful minutes, then let himself walk out into the light and the chattering witches and wizards. Their whispers and stares did not bother him as much as they normally would; thinking about those loving arms he couldn't see, he felt nothing would ever hurt him again. His scar returned to twinging and prickling dully, but it didn't burn or stab.

It was a bit of a shock when they came back into the upper levels to a scene of shattered statues, broken masonry, and frantically-working wizards. "How will they explain this to the Muggles?" Harry asked, grimacing at the long burn now running through one of the murals.

"We report a bomb threat, then let FMS take care of the Muggle details. They've got it down to a game, seeing how few Muggle cops they wind up having to Obliviate," said Congresswoman Leland.

Harry sighed at the devastation. Then an alarming thought struck him. "How many people were hurt?"

"Nobody dead," said Spalding from ahead of them. "A few bad injuries at the hospital, but most of the Death Eaters were concentrating their efforts on getting into MR and D with You-Know-Who."

"Let's head back to my office," Congresswoman Leland told them.

Once there, Professor Dumbledore suggested that it would be easier on Harry to arrange a small intercontinental Portkey for the return trip, and left Harry with Snape and Spalding in Congresswoman Leland's office. The Congresswoman and her Chief of Staff made Harry lie down on one of the sofas and fussed over him in a way that made Harry wonder if they each had seven redheaded children, while Spalding bustled around talking to other guards via their badges. Snape just stood in the corner and stared at Harry until he nodded off.

He woke up less than an hour later to Congresswoman Leland patting his cheek. "Harry, sweetheart, the Portkey's ready. Time for you to go." As he sat up, she said, "I'm sorry your first visit to the States was such a bust!"

Smiling sheepishly, Harry replied, "Nothing I haven't had to deal with back home." _Aside from the Pillar of Storgé, that is._ "Washington is an amazing place."

She beamed and tweaked his chin. Professor Dumbledore appeared in the office doorway, holding an oval-shaped brown ball with white stitching. "Let's be going, Harry."

"Where's that Weasley kid from the Ministry?" asked Congresswoman Leland as they went back into her office lobby.

The look of intense displeasure on Dumbledore's face startled Harry. "He returned to the Ministry immediately after Harry was attacked outside the Pillar chamber." Harry's heart sank. Percy had seen him possessed by Voldemort, and would undoubtedly tell Fudge—and Fudge would tell _everyone._

Congresswoman Leland visibly reached the same conclusion. "Well. That's not good. You think he'll be in any danger?" she nodded to Harry.

"I cannot say as yet, but I am willing to hope for the best," said Dumbledore, but he seemed to question her with his eyes.

She nodded. "Well, if there's trouble…" They smiled at each other, reaching some understanding that completely escaped Harry. "Oh, and tell your friend Fudge that while we were locked up in the committee room watching your Dark Lord rampaging around _our_ Capitol, the United States Wizarding Congress voted by a wide majority to give full support and aid to the Ministry of Magic. Auror teams, research, equipment, whatever you need. It'll be formally announced to the American wizarding public tomorrow."

Dumbledore bowed to her. "We are immensely grateful, Congresswoman Leland."

The Congresswoman grinned wickedly, jerking her head at Harry. "What can I say, this one's just too cute to resist." Blood rushed to Harry's face as she turned and kissed him smackingly on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, honey—that's not _my_ football you're using, is it?" she exclaimed, pointing at the ball in Dumbledore's hand.

"No, this was kindly lent me by one of the guards."

"That's not a football," Harry said in confusion.

" _American_ football," she laughed, stepping back. Harry, Dumbledore, and Snape all put their hands on the ball. She raised her wand and muttered a spell. "Barrier's going down in three—two—one—"

And so Harry sped away from the American Wizarding Congress offices and Wizarding Representative Kate Leland in a whirl of wind and color.

* * *

 

They landed outside Hagrid's cabin. Harry stumbled and stifled a yawn. Dumbledore watched him closely. "How do you feel, Harry?"

"All right," he said. Snape was watching with the same intense expression he'd had since the Pillar Room, but when Harry looked at him, he turned and walked quickly toward the castle. Harry turned back to Dumbledore. "Professor…do you know what happened to me when the Pillar exploded?"

"I believe I do. Let us return to my office, and I will explain it all to you."

Harry couldn't walk fast enough. He saw the Gryffindors on the Quidditch pitch, but decided to go talk to Ron and Hermione about everything that had happened later. First, he wanted to know exactly _what_ had happened. They arrived in Dumbledore's office to a greeting trill from Fawkes, and Harry sat stroking him as Dumbledore sat down behind his desk.

"Sir, when the Pillar exploded…I felt someone was there with me. They had their arms around me, and I felt safe. Whole minutes passed, and I didn't even notice."

Dumbledore nodded, "I am not at all surprised. The experience you had today must have seemed the briefest twinkle of a light you have been denied nearly all your life."

"What _was_ the Pillar of Storgé?" Harry asked urgently. "And why did it…what did it do?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes glimmered at Harry behind his half-moon spectacles. "What had you heard of it from the Americans before you saw it today?"

"One of them, she said it brings good luck. That it was part of a building made of pillars that each contained powerful magical forces, and that some people could tap them. Is that what I did?" he asked in confusion. "Did I somehow… _tap_ something?"

"I see the Americans are more knowledgable of the Pillar's history than our Unspeakables, in this rare case. They are correct, Harry: the Pillar of Storgé contains one of the most powerful magical forces in existence. In fact, it is one of the most powerful universal forces. There were once many of these Pillars, built to harness such powers and bestow them upon those in real need of them. But as you see, there was a slight design flaw: rather than bestowing the powers to all those in need, the Pillars merely reflected that power for persons in whom it already existed. And the reason nearly all of the Pillars are gone is that nearly all were encountered eventually by a person who possessed the matching power in such quantities that the Pillar destroyed itself."

Harry frowned, confused.

"Think on what you saw in the Pillar room today, Harry," Dumbledore went on. "Patricia Roarke, a perfectly ordinary young witch in every respect, touched the Pillar and found reassurance and strength. Percy Weasley, on the other hand, touched the Pillar and wept. And Professor Snape touched the Pillar…and felt nothing at all."

"And when I touched it," Harry murmured, "it exploded. And I felt…loved. I thought I heard someone telling me it would be all right." He gaped at Dumbledore. "The Pillar of Storgé was full of _love?_ "

"Not just any love. There are many kinds of love, and all of them are immensely powerful magical forces. The Pillar of Storgé was in fact the last of the Love Pillars still in existence, but when you touched, it destroyed itself. The word, 'storgé,' means 'parental love.'"

Harry could not speak. He had wondered…he had hoped, but he'd thought he was mad…remembering the arms around him, how strange yet familiar they had felt, how sheltering…and those echoed words in the back of his mind… "It was my mother," he whispered. "She was holding me. Keeping me safe."

"Yes," said Dumbledore gently. "She was not a ghost, nor a spirit, nor the echo that appeared from _Priori Incantatem_ , but rather the embodiment of the love that would not permit her to step aside when Voldemort came for you. Your mother's sacrifice was the most powerful, most complete act of parental love that can be—and that is why the Pillar of Storgé destroyed itself when you touched it. I told you long ago, the mark of her love lives on to this day in your very skin."

Harry had to turn away. He stroked Fawkes' feathers for a few moments until he felt able to talk again. Knowing now what had happened, he wondered aloud, "Then what would someone like Voldemort want with that Pillar?"

Dumbledore smiled. "He did not want the Pillar itself, Harry. He feared it. The power of one of the legendary Pillars of Magical Forces, could he risk your ever discovering it?"

Harry stared at his hands. "I don't understand…did the Pillar _do_ something to me?"

"The power of your mother's sacrifice nearly destroyed Voldemort once. He overcame that protection by taking your blood—could he risk your finding the Pillar of Storgé, which might not only restore your protection but increase it tenfold?"

"So I'm protected again?" Harry asked. "He can't curse me? Is that why he left after the Pillar exploded?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I am not certain how powerful the Pillar is, Harry—but neither is Voldemort. But what we do know is that some measure of the power contained within it reverted to you. Voldemort will not wish to risk attacking you outright now. That was why he dreaded the possibility of your finding the Pillar."

"But…" Harry shook his head. "I didn't even know about it until he kidnapped that American wizard."

"There are many possibilities as to what happened Harry. One is that Voldemort was merely seeking information about the strength of wizarding America, saw the Pillar of Storgé in his prisoner's mind, and realized what it could mean for you. The other is that he knew of its existence from the beginning, and has been seeking it to prevent you from reaching it first. In any case, it was his own fear, his own obsession, that in the end led to his being thwarted. _He_ is the one who drew you to the Pillar."

Harry smiled. "I don't imagine he's very pleased about that."

No," Dumbledore smiled too. "I don't imagine he is."

With a quiet sigh, Harry looked down at Fawkes. "I wanted to stay there forever. I wish I could have seen her."

"She was there, Harry. You felt her. And the power of that feeling will never leave you, because the Pillar of Storgé showed that it has been with you all along."


	15. Round and Round and Round We Go

Harry was lying on his bed in the dormitory with the window open, thinking about everything and nothing, when Ron, Hermione, and Ginny came running up the stairs. "Harry!" Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed as Ron clambered over next to her. "We heard you were back early—what happened?"

Looking at the blue sky through the window, Harry murmured, "Same thing that always happens."

"Bloody hell, mate," Ron exclaimed, "what was he after this time?"

" _He_ wasn't really after anything," Harry told them. "He was trying to keep me away from something."

"Was anyone hurt?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. His friends were quiet, then Ginny sat down against the wall under the window. "Were you hurt?"

"Not really." He smiled wanly at her.

She gazed at Harry's face and said softly, "He possessed you again, didn't he?"

Ron and Hermione hissed behind Harry. He swallowed. "Yeah. For a minute, anyway."

Hermione's hand touched his head. "But you stopped it?"

"Not me," Harry said. "Professor Snape. We'd been down in their Magical Research Department…there was an artifact there Voldemort was afraid I'd find. It was…a sort of shield." He couldn't tell them about the Pillar yet. The memory was still too overwhelming. "If I touched it, it'd protect me from him again. He came to try and destroy it, but I touched it and then it was too late. He left when reinforcements came."

"That's all that—" Hermione began, but Ron shushed her.

"If you're tired, we can leave you alone."

"No," he said, though he was tired. "I'm just a little…weird, after getting possessed and all." They settled down close to him then, Hermione rubbing his back. "The whole world's going to know about it, this time tomorrow."

"Oh no," Hermione gasped. "Did the Americans see it?"

"Yes, but _they_ promised to keep it out of the papers," said Harry. He smiled. "They're a little odd, Yank wizards. But I liked them." Ron chuckled. "No, the reason the whole world's about to find out is Percy saw it." Ginny and Ron gasped. "And of course, he headed straight back to the Ministry before Dumbledore could even talk to him."

"That…that…" Harry looked over his shoulder and couldn't help grinning: Ron's entire face was turning red. "That… _git_ If he even _thinks_ about…I'll kill him!"

Ginny shook her head violently. "He can't. He may be a git, but he knows what will happen to Harry if word gets out about Voldemort possessing him. People would go crazy—Percy can't want Harry dead!"

Harry just shrugged at them, but privately, he thought, _That's exactly what Percy wants._ He yawned and changed the subject. "S'pose, I ought to get some homework done."

"Blimey, mate, you're turning into Hermione!"

"Oh, stop it, Ronald! If you like, Harry, we can do it up here as long as you're awake."

"I'm not an invalid!" Harry griped.

She folded her arms. "Don't get cross with me, you're the one who said you ought to do some homework. And the fact that you've barely moved a muscle in the past ten minutes suggests you don't really feel like going all the way to the library, so I was just trying to help!"

Harry groaned and buried his face in his pillow. "Would you please stop being right all the time?" he huffed out at her.

Answering giggles told him he was forgiven. Someone ruffled his hair again. "Stop petting the man!"

"Knock off, Ron, I'm just mothering him."

Harry flinched. Hard. "Harry? Something wrong?"

Harry sat up quickly and began rubbing his neck. "Just a spasm," he grunted. "All right, Hermione, you've convinced me. I haven't finished my N.E.W.T. Defense homework."

"Harry, shame on you, it's due tomorrow, and you owe it to Professor Lupin to give at least _some_ real effort to his class…" Hermione's scolding echoed down the stairs as she and Ginny went to get their books.

Pulling his own DADA book from under his bed, Ron was grinning after them. "She _never_ changes," he muttered, without losing the smile.

"Were you expecting her to?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Nah, I suppose not." Ron's ears went just slightly pink, but then he gestured to his book. "Have you read the chapter yet?"

"Yeah, that's done, I just haven't done the essay."

"Hah. We're ahead of you; we got it done Wednesday."

"When were you two doing homework together Wednesday?"

"Er…"

* * *

 

To Harry's complete astonishment, the _Daily Prophet_ on Monday did not contain a banner headline that read, **_He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Takes Over Harry Potter's Mind!_** or something else equally melodramatic.

Having spent Sunday night sleeping badly and waking up wondering if hordes of hysterical wizards would be coming to chuck him into the mental ward of St. Mungo's, the relief was almost unbearable.

"Are you sure Percy saw it?" Ron asked him when Hermione pointed out the damning article's absence.

Harry nodded, baffled. The attack on the American Wizarding Congress was mentioned, but the details were not included. "Professor Dumbledore seemed to think he did. He wasn't happy when Percy ran off afterward."

"Maybe it just scared him," said Ginny.

Hermione shook her head, rolling up the newspaper with a puzzled expression. "If he saw something like that, it'd be his duty to inform his boss—or at least that's how he'd see it," she said hastily, before Ron could get angry. "And even if Percy meant Harry no harm, Fudge wouldn't hesitate to leak that information."

"You think Fudge has it in for Harry?" asked Ron. "I just thought he was a whimpering little—"

"—Opportunist is what he is," Hermione growled. "He may not 'have it in' for Harry, but if it'd make him look good to the public, he'd make a human sacrifice out of him without hesitating." The reference made Harry queasy, remembering being tied to the tombstone by Wormtail.

Ginny patted his arm. "Never mind, Harry. Fudge isn't just a whimpering little opportunist, he's incompetent. It'd take more brains and courage than he's got to hurt you."

 _Maybe, but he could always just make everyone think I'm nutters again._ Hermione was stuffing the newspaper into her book bag and giving Ron a meaningful look. She blushed when she saw Harry watching. "What?" he demanded testily.

"Nothing, sorry. Really, Harry, it's nothing, I promise!" she said, raising her hands defensively. Harry shrugged, but felt increasingly rankled—Ron's ears were red. It was _not_ nothing.

Just then, Neville tugged at his arm. "Hey, Harry, what's the matter with Snape?"

"Snape?" Harry blinked.

"He keeps staring at you," Neville whispered, baffled.

Ron shrugged, going for another helping of porridge. "Nasty git hates Harry, he's always glowering at him."

Neville shook his head. "No, this is different."

Without even thinking, Harry looked up at the Head Table. Snape was indeed staring at him, but it wasn't the usual scowl of loathing that put Harry in the same category as a flobberworm. Not that it was friendly either. Snape seemed…perturbed.

As soon as he saw Harry looking back, the Potions Master got up and left the Great Hall. Dumbledore and McGonagall watched him go, but Dumbledore smiled. Harry looked at Neville and shrugged.

* * *

 

Occlumency that evening provided no answers. On the contrary: Harry was more confused than ever. When he arrived, Snape was sitting at his desk, reading essays. "Shut the door, Potter," he said without looking up. Harry did so apprehensively. Something was very odd. Snape got up, came around the desk, and ordered, "Take out your wand," all without looking at Harry.

Harry was baffled. No snide remarks about the last lesson, where Harry had wound up begging Snape to stop? No threats or taunts about what would happen if Harry's control didn't improve?

No, there was none of that—although when Snape finally did look at Harry's face, Harry thought his stare would be enough to burn right through his forehead. "On the count of three. One—two—three— _Legilimens!_ "

Alex Marshall trembled on the floor of Voldemort's stronghold…Harry wrenched his thoughts to the Pillar room, seeking the safety of his mother's arms…Percy accused him of putting his family in danger…Snape was standing in front of Harry as Voldemort took aim, preparing to fight a hopeless battle…

Harry could vaguely see Snape's face in front of him, and as he, Harry, pulled the memory of the Pillar room to cover the memories Snape was attacking, Snape's eyes suddenly widened. Then all at once, it was as though a tug of war between two memories over Harry's mind suddenly ended. Percy's hurt, angry face in the American hotel vanished, and the Pillar room exploded into Harry's mind with such force that he lost all track of the here and now.

 _It will be all right…_ His mother's arms were around him again, fierce, desperate, loving him more than seemed possible, he closed his eyes, never wanting it to end…

Harry crashed to his knees with a gasp, trembling. He looked up and saw Snape standing over him, his face sheet white. _From heaven straight to hell_ , he thought, and tried not to groan.

"Get up, Potter." Harry did, resignedly waiting for the abuse to start. Snape's face was expressionless. "That memory is too emotional to be an effective defense. It has too much power over you."

Snape's voice was utterly flat. It certainly was not friendly, not even that semi-approval he tended to give Malfoy and the Slytherins, but the lack of open hostility alone was enough to startle Harry. He stared at Snape in confusion. "What?"

Snape repeated slowly, "I _said_ , the memory of…the incident in America will not effectively shield you from the Dark Lord."

"So…" Harry struggled to make his mind work. "I should use something else as a shield?"

"That is correct. The shield you used last week was a better choice. The objective is to clear your mind of emotion."

"I—all right." Harry mentally shook his head. He didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when the result was that this lesson was actually productive—but he couldn't help wondering if the battle had addled _Snape's_ brains.

Snape raised his wand, and motioned for Harry to lower his. "Again. On the count of three: one—two—three— _Legilimens!_ "

Sirius was laughing at Bellatrix… _oh no, not this again…_ the next jet of red light struck him right in the chest… _concentrate, CONCENTRATE!..._ Harry closed his eyes and struggled to think of the Quidditch tryouts last Thursday…His godfather's eyes widened in shock… _come on, come on_ …He focused his mind on the sunlight flashing on his broomstick as he played Chaser… _blue sky_ …red light… _wind on my face_ …the veil fluttered as though in… _NO!_ Playing Beater, he chased the Bludger toward the Gold Team's goals, faster, faster, and swung as hard as he could— _whack!_

Panting for breath, Harry opened his eyes, running the back of his hand across them as Snape lowered his wand. "Better," he said.

 _WHAT is going on here?_ Harry thought in disbelief.

Snape made as if to raise his wand again, then lowered it. "You have made some progress in defending your mind, but against an outright attack from the Dark Lord, merely focusing upon a distracting or pleasant memory is not enough. You still have not managed to clear your mind of emotion; each time you allow yourself to become distressed, he will penetrate further."

"Yes, sir," said Harry carefully, wanting Snape's strangely-human mood to last.

"That is enough for tonight. Before you go to sleep, concentrate on clearing your mind, as always. _Work_ on it, Potter," said Snape sharply. "After his failure in America, the Dark Lord will be increasing his efforts."

Harry nodded and turned to leave, still wondering why Snape was being almost helpful. He didn't want to risk provoking anything, but…he glanced back. Snape was walking back around his desk. "Sir? Do you think he could come after Hogwarts?"

Snape stopped with his back still turned to Harry. "I have no doubt he is already preparing to do so, in some fashion. Hogwarts is the stronghold of his opposition, and the recent blows to him are seen as a personal insult. It is only a matter of time."

Harry was grateful that Snape didn't turn around then; the words had made him shiver.

* * *

 

Returning to the dormitory, Harry found Ron and Hermione sitting on Ron's bed. They jumped as he entered. "Well?" asked Ron. "How'd it go?"

Harry sat down on his bed and took off his shoes before answering. "Really…really…odd."

 _"Odd_ ," Hermione repeated, frowning. "Odd in what way?"

"Well…" Harry scratched his head, still puzzling over all the things that hadn't happened during Occlumency. "I think…it went well. I think I'm starting to get the hang of it."

"And that's odd?" asked Ron.

Harry shook his head. "It was Snape who was odd."

"Oh bloody hell, what'd he do this time?" Ron snapped.

Hermione huffed in agreement. "Someone really ought to remind him there's a war on. He should be working with you, not against you. What's he done now?"

Harry huffed out his breath, shaking his head. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" they chorused.

"Well…I sort of blocked him at first, but he told me I wasn't doing it right. And he said what I ought to be doing. Then we tried again, and I blocked him, and he said that was better but I still needed to do better if I want to block Voldemort. And then he let me go." The story sounded strange to Harry even as he told it.

Ron and Hermione were quiet for a moment. "Blimey," Ron muttered. "That _is_ odd!"

Hermione dangled her feet over the edge of Ron's bed, staring at Harry as if she thought he was touched in the head. "He didn't…insult you?"

"No."

"He didn't yell at you?" Ron demanded.

"No."

"He didn't sabotage you and then blame you?" Hermione pressed.

"No."

"He didn't act like he thinks you're an overgrown flobberworm?" Ron exclaimed.

"No."

"Harry…" Hermione pulled her feet back up and rested her chin on her knees, looking highly agitated. "Are you _sure_ that was Snape? I mean…well, Crouch fooled us before…"

Now that was a thought! Harry frowned, thinking back. "I don't know…he was acting odd from the minute the Pillar was destroyed. The first time I saw him after, he looked almost…afraid." He shook his head.

"Maybe your getting possessed gave the old git a scare," said Ron. Then his eyes widened. "Or maybe… _he's_ the one possessed!"

"No," Harry muttered, rubbing his forehead. It still ached, and his scar hurt, but he didn't feel nearly so drained and weakened in his mind as he'd used to. "Dumbledore was there, for a long time. He'd have noticed. And I…don't think I'd miss it if Voldemort was possessing someone else—if it hurts half as much."

Hermione and Ron's faces fell. "It hurts you?" Hermione asked softly.

Harry nodded. "A lot. And one of the Americans said something about my eyes changing color."

Hermione let out a little squeak of horror, and Ron cringed. "What color?" asked Ron, looking revolted.

It struck Harry in a bit of shock that neither of his friends had ever seen Voldemort. They didn't know what he looked like. "Red," he told them. "Voldemort's eyes are red." Hermione covered her mouth, and Ron scooted close to her, putting a hand on her back. Harry changed the subject. "Anyway, that rules out Snape being possessed, so I can't imagine why he's suddenly so…"

Ron leaned forward. "Are you trying to tell us Snape was _nice_ to you?!"

Ginny had been coming up the stairs just then, but at hearing Ron's words, she froze, open-mouthed, then turned and made as if to head back down the stairs. They all had to laugh.

"Come back, Ginny," Harry called.

She did so with exaggerated hesitance. "What's this about the sky falling?"

"No, Snape wasn't exactly nice." They all laughed harder, and Harry found himself relaxing. Was it really worth getting all worked up about—well, perhaps it was a bit earth-shattering, but his agonizing would cast little light on it. "He just…wasn't nasty either."

"Very odd," murmured Hermione.

"Maybe he's just had a change of heart," suggested Ron. Then he grinned, and they all collapsed on beds and floor, laughing hysterically.

Hermione laughed so hard she wound up collapsed across Ron's lap, unable to get up, and Ron was draped over her back. Ginny was flat on her back, shrieking and kicking her heels into the floor. Harry laughed so hard he couldn't breathe.

* * *

 

Life was a bit odd for Harry around Hogwarts over the next few days. He opened up the _Daily Prophet_ with great trepidation each morning, with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny hovering over his shoulder, wondering if this would be the day the story of his possession by Voldemort would be announced. What Fudge was waiting for, he couldn't imagine.

"He must know," Harry muttered on Wednesday during breakfast. "Why hasn't he even been to question me?"

"Maybe Percy didn't tell him after all," Ginny offered in a voice teeming with hope.

"No chance," said Ron darkly. "No chance. I don't like this. It feels like they're waiting for you to do something, Harry."

"Maybe proof," said Hermione. "Or maybe they're talking with the Aurors about what to do."

"Maybe Dumbledore stopped him!" Ron was happiest with that idea (as was Harry.) "Convinced or threatened him somehow."

"Who threatened who?" It was the twins, coming for their N.E.W.T. make-up work.

Harry shook his head vigorously at Ron, who told them, "Sorry, can't say just now."

"Oh, go on, we can keep a secret!" Fred insisted.

"Aren't we the souls of discretion?" demanded George.

Hermione snorted loudly. The twins shot her simultaneous wounded pouts and held them until she broke and started to giggle. Ron looked annoyed. "Flirt with someone your own age."

"What?" exclaimed George. "Hermione thinks we're charming, don't you?"

"Errr…" Hermione turned redder than Ron on his worst days and refused to look up. Ron glowered at the twins until they headed for the Head Table to meet Professor Flitwick, then he looked at Hermione. "Oh, stop it!" she exclaimed.

Harry shook his head in disgust. He had given up on asking them what they and the rest of the Weasleys were conspiring about—every time he turned around, they were whispering furtively, then breaking off and blushing when they saw Harry. Ron and Hermione flatly refused to say anything, and though Harry had questioned Ginny, she insisted it was for Ron or Hermione to tell him. The twins just sniggered and elbowed each other and winked at him. It was _incredibly_ aggravating, so now he just glared at Ron and Hermione whenever they did it.

_Everyone in this ruddy place is going absolutely positively stark raving MAD!_

Last night's Occlumency lesson had gone well again; Snape had waited longer between each attempt to give Harry time to clear his mind of emotion. Harry hadn't quite managed it—he had lasted about five seconds into Sirius's death before he'd had to use his wand to end it. But at least he was able to end it now, although Snape was still quick to remind him that if he should come under attack by the Dark Lord, Harry would most likely _not_ have his wand handy.

But it was a far cry from the near-gleeful way Snape had launched into the most painful of Harry's memories followed with a dose of beratement for his father's various failings. Not that Harry minded Occlumency lessons without abuse; it was just…strange.

And Potions was even stranger. As far as Harry could tell, Snape's public behavior toward him had not changed much; he still pretended Harry was invisible all through class—or at least through class until the day he was forced to pay attention to Harry.

Halfway through class, Harry was slowly pouring dragon's blood into his Cut Healing Potion when he was struck by a wave of dizziness so intense that he nearly pitched over into the cauldron. Instead, he managed to grab the nearest desk to steady himself, but dropped the entire vial of dragon blood into the potion in the process. The cauldron sent flames shooting into the air—fortunately, they went up rather than out, which narrowly prevented Harry and Hermione from being burned.

Snape stormed over, shouting a dousing spell as Harry righted himself. "POTTER! What the devil are you doing?!"

Hermione had her hands over her mouth in dismay. Harry muttered, "Dropped the vial of dragon's blood, sir."

Across the room, Malfoy snorted with laughter, and Snape scowled. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for carelessness with supplies, Potter, and that's a zero for today—for you _and_ Miss Granger, as she did not have the good sense to keep the valuable ingredients out of your hands!" Then he stalked off, and Hermione sat down at her desk and buried her face in her arms.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered to her.

With a sigh, she sat up, staring at her notes. "It's all right. I saw you sway. Are _you_ all right?"

"Yeah. Just a dizzy spell. It's gone. Maybe it was the fumes."

She gave him a droll smile. "Well…at least he's back to his old self again!" Harry blinked, then couldn't help but grin.

* * *

 

That evening, when Harry went wearily down to Occlumency, bracing himself for the Return of the Old Snape, the Potions Master pounced on him the minute he closed the door. "What happened in Potions today, Potter? Dropping an entire vial of an extremely valuable ingredient into a cauldron seems a bit extreme even for a student of your native clumsiness. Was this merely yet another stunt to get attention?"

Harry, startled, snapped back, "I got dizzy! It was an accident."

Snape snorted. "Dizzy."

"I had…to grab…the desk…" Harry said, trying and failing to count to one hundred.

Turning away, Snape replied, "I thought as much."

His casual tone made Harry furious. "Then why did you take points for me being careless if you knew I wasn't?!"

"Number one, Mr. Potter, you _were_ being careless, pouring the blood directly from the vial rather than measuring it into another vessel and pouring it from there—and Miss Granger was careless for failing to instruct you in that regard."

"For someone who hates 'insufferable know-it-alls,' you certainly seem to want her to be all-knowing," Harry shot back.

Snape went on as if Harry hadn't spoken, "Number two, you failed to mention your moment of dizziness when I demanded an explanation of you." He met Harry's astonished, indignant gaze, and finished, "Number Three, from now on, you _will_ report any episodes of disorientation, pain in your scar, and _any_ dreams that do not involve your precious Quidditch as soon as they occur, or I will find other ways to take points from you. Is that clear?"

"You—"

_"Potter! Is…that…clear?"_

Through clenched teeth, Harry ground out, "Yes… _sir._ "

"Now. Clear your mind."

It appeared they were _both_ back to their old selves: Harry couldn't seem to block a thing.

* * *

 

And life went downhill from there. While Snape never quite reverted to torturing Harry with memories of Sirius and Cedric and Uncle Vernon, he certainly had little patience with Harry's difficulty clearing his mind. On days when he and Snape didn't fight, Harry usually managed to push him out either with a memory he pulled up himself or with a curse. The rest of the time, if Harry was at all agitated at the start of Occlumency, he was lucky to get off a Stinging Hex.

However, Harry found that he did not have to report many dreams to Snape, as quite a few of them lately did seem to involve Quidditch.

Ron took his Captain duties seriously, and apart from regularly-scheduled practice, he often nagged Harry, Ginny, and any other team members who looked like they weren't busy (and even those who were) to come on unscheduled rounds when they were supposed to be studying. Harry was all too happy to join in, but Ron also tended to pester him with diagrams of flight strategies and rumours he'd heard about the other House teams when they were doing homework.

Thus, Harry very often had Quidditch on the brain, which was fine with him. The enlarged Gryffindor team was practicing well, but the episode of dizziness in Potions was only the first of an increasing number that started to worry both Harry and his friends. During Herbology the day after, his head began to swim so badly while he was walking in the greenhouse that he lurched into a Giant Spicularboium and got himself incredibly stung. That sent him to the hospital wing, but he chalked it up to tripping over his own feet, though he did tell Professor Lupin during Curse Defense that afternoon. Lupin would pass it on to Dumbledore and Snape if it mattered, and Harry strongly preferred to report any "incidents" to him.

The dizzy spells got worse over the next few weeks. Harry never actually fainted, but there were a few times where he wound up flat on his back on the floor, helpless to move until the world stopped spinning. The worst part was that no one could seem to figure out what was wrong.

Madam Pomfrey gave Harry a Vitalizing Potion, thinking that it was perhaps some lingering effects of the Draught of Living Death and all the excitement of late, but that didn't help, because Harry walked into a wall during Transfiguration the next day. She then took the shotgun approach and prescribed potions for everything from concussions to inner ear infections, with no success. Harry kept up with Occlumency, dutifully (and occasionally desperately) clearing his mind of as much emotion as he could before going to sleep, but that didn't help.

The worst attempt to diagnose the problem was when, at Dumbledore's suggestion, Snape attempted to probe through Harry's mind to see if Voldemort were somehow using Legilimency to affect Harry physically. They never found out, because every time he got through a certain number of memories, Harry would find himself panicking and push him out. Naturally, Snape was _not_ pleased.

During the first Hogsmeade weekend around Halloween, Harry found himself in the Three Broomsticks with Ron and Hermione and the DA, discussing forming themselves into an official club. "We should probably change the official name to 'Defense Association,'" Hermione laughed. "I don't think it'd help Fudge's nerves if we stayed 'Dumbledore's Army.'"

Everyone laughed. "Not that the need's so desperate now, what with Professor Lupin being back," said Terry Boot. "But it'd be a nice way to keep practicing."

"Maybe Professor Lupin could be our sponsoring teacher," said Ginny. "We need one to give approval for us to form an official club."

Nibbling on a cherry from her drink, Hermione frowned, "It's a good idea, although Professor Lupin gets enough scrutiny from the Ministry as it is for his condition. I wouldn't want to invite more trouble for him."

Ron shrugged and took a gulp of butterbeer. "Maybe Professor McGonagall could sponsor us, then. No rule says Professor Lupin couldn't still help."

"Would we still meet in the Room of Requirement?" asked Cho Chang. "I liked that place."

"I don't know if we still 'require' it now that we're legal," said Ernie MacMillian, sitting on the edge of a table. "But we could maybe use the Dueling Room, or fix up an empty classroom with the things we need."

Hermione pulled out a quill and an official-looking parchment. "This is the application form to organize a new club."

"Do we have to sign it this time?" asked Zacharias slyly. Cho blushed while everyone else laughed smugly.

Grinning, Hermione said, "Well, we _do_ need to submit the names of club members to show how many people are interested…but I promise—Wizard's Oath, if you like—I haven't done anything this time!"

They all laughed harder. Ron mock-wiped his eyes. "You're an inspiration to us all, Hermione!" Hermione blushed as the rest of the group voiced their agreement, some applauding.

Harry was quiet through most of the meeting. As glad as he was of the idea to get together and practice Defense, he knew they would want him to teach again, and he wasn't all that certain he wanted to.

Between the dizzy spells (he'd had one at Honeydukes today, and then another at Zonko's) and the catastrophes that had resulted from his visions, and Smythe-Wellington's class, he was suffering from a severe lack of confidence in his own defensive abilities. But when the form came round, he put his name down too, and Hermione took it with satisfaction. "I'll talk to both Professors McGonagall and Lupin, and see which one wants to sponsor us. And find out about the location."

"And now we can just post group meetings on bulletin boards like normal people!" laughed Ginny.

"Aw, I rather liked those fake Galleons!" said someone.

* * *

 

They got permission, and Professor McGonagall and Professor Lupin both sponsored them, giving the club extra legitimacy, although most of them still referred to the group as Dumbledore's Army. Their meetings now mostly centered around practicing whatever they had been learning in their assorted Defense classes each week, but the close camaraderie of the previous year still lingered like an unspoken promise among them all.

Quite a few younger students joined as well, and while Harry avoided taking up his old role as instructor of the group, it was his suggestion that the older students team up with younger ones to help them out. At first they used an empty classroom, but their ranks soon swelled to almost sixty members, and they were allowed to use the Dueling Room for practice.

Harry also discovered that he himself was far worse at the practice than he'd used to be, because his dizzy spells made his partners avoid hexing him, and he never knew when he might suddenly lose his balance and pitch right over.

The week before the Gryffindor Quidditch team's first match, against Hufflepuff, Harry was beginning to wonder if they shouldn't field Ginny as Seeker, and finally asked Ron about it when they were doing homework in the common room. "I'm not going to drop you just because of some ruddy dizzy spells," Ron told him. "Not from our first match, it's not fair after you got banned all last year!"

"I know," Harry said in frustration.

"I have faith in you, mate, just like Angelina wouldn't let me quit."

His scar was hurting again. Aggravated, Harry rubbed his rebellious head and finally just put it down on his arms. "We can't find the cause. Until we do, I don't know how to make it stop."

"Well…unless it gets _really_ bad, you're playing," said Ron. "And if you get dizzy during the game, just wave at me, and I'll call a time out."

"All right," Harry sighed. Then he grinned, "Just don't be so busy watching me that you forget to guard the rings."

"Right!" They both laughed.

Harry glanced around. "Where's Hermione? Isn't Arithmancy over by now?"

Ron's ears turned red. "I…er…reckon she's in the library."

"But I thought she was going to help you with your Curse project."

"Oh, she will…that is to say, she'll come 'round…" The redness spread from the tips of Ron's ears down across his cheeks to his nose. "Okay, we had a big argument, and she's mad at me." He avoided Harry's gaze. "It was about Quidditch; she thought you shouldn't play too—but I think you should!" he said desperately. "We need to show the other Houses we're back in force, and that means having you and Ginny in the positions you play best!"

Laughing, Harry slapped his back. "All right. But make sure the others are able to watch for a time out signal too. I'd rather not fall off my broom during a Wronski Feint."

"You don't fall that often!"

"No, because I've got just enough time to sit down before I fall down. Didn't you see me in Specialized Defense this morning? Smythe-Wellington thinks I'm a complete wanker!"

"Oh, I don't know about that, she was pretty worried. She knows it's not normal for someone to keel over more than twice a week," said Ron. "And at least that made her lay off you about the way you draw your wand."

Harry groaned, remembering how Smythe-Wellington had called him a would-be Muggle gunslinger with his wand-drawing and made him do it over and over again in front of the class until she liked it. Then the dizzy spell had hit, and he'd barely been able to stand for the rest of class. "Maybe she is just doing her job, but she definitely thinks _I'm_ not cut out to be an Auror."

"Well…" Ron couldn't deny it. Smythe-Wellington did not appear to think much of Harry's chances. "At least she thinks Malfoy's worse than you!"


	16. Ante Up

Saturday dawned cloudy, but pleasant, and Ron couldn't have been happier. "No sun in our eyes, not too much wind, perfect."

Hermione was walking down to the pitch with the team. "Harry, are you sure you'll be able to play?"

"Hermione! Stop discouraging him!"

"I'm _not,_ Ron!" she cried. "I promise I'm not! I'm just worried! That fall in Specialized Defense yesterday was really bad, what if you fall off your—"

"Don't worry," Ginny insisted. "We've got it all worked out. Everyone knows to keep an eye on Harry, and if he has trouble, we'll call a time out until it passes. They don't seem to come very close together, the dizzy spells I mean."

Andrew Kirk and Lavinia Watson ran up next to them, Andrew swinging his Beater's bat and Vinny swinging her long blonde braid. "Maybe you're having a growth spurt!" Vinny suggested.

Harry grinned. "There's a nice thought! I could finally start to catch up with Ron!"

"You know, that could be it, Harry," said Hermione, finally starting to look encouraged. "The Draught of Living Death freezes the body until you're just barely alive—you wouldn't have grown at all over the summer. Maybe now your body's sort of catching up."

"Hmm. I'll ask Madam Pomfrey after the match," Harry said as they reached the locker rooms.

Hermione hugged him, then whispered in his ears. "Any dreams?"

"Just about Quidditch," Harry said proudly, and she beamed.

"In that case," Hermione let go of Harry to grab both of Ron's hands. "Kill them, Captain Weasley!"

Ron whooped, and as Harry watched with an open mouth, threw his arms around Hermione and spun her wildly around. "For you, I'll make sure the score is at least a hundred fifty to zero! Got that, Harry? Catch the Snitch in the first thirty seconds!"

Ginny giggled behind them, and Harry mock saluted. "Yes, sir, Captain, sir!"

Hermione waved vigorously at them before running toward the stadium stairs. "Look at that!" Ron cried.

"At what?" Harry asked.

"She's…excited! Excited about Quidditch! Can you believe it! She always supported us ourselves, but never really the team!" Ron was practically skipping.

Harry followed in amusement. "It's your team, Ron. That's why. It's all our team. You, me, Ginny, with Fred and George helping."

"Wow," Ron mused. "It really is our team, isn't it? _My_ team?" Harry and Ginny grinned at each other and nodded. "In that case…get in that locker room, you lazy sloggers!" Ron shouted, and chased them to join the rest of the team.

The Gryffindors were in high spirits, and Ron gave them a pep talk worthy of Oliver Wood, to the point where Harry had a funny feeling in his stomach as the rest of the team cheered and stomped their feet. The feeling unnerved him at first, until it dawned on him: he was proud of Ron. So proud, in fact, he thought he might explode. This was a far cry from the Ron whose ears had glowed red with embarrassment and self-doubt before every game last year. This Ron looked like he had been born to be Quidditch Captain.

 _Prefect and Quidditch Captain…I wonder if he'll make Head Boy next year._ He was sitting, grinning stupidly, when Ginny poked him. "Hey! Are you coming?"

"Wha—yeah! Sorry!" he grinned and hurried after the others. Ginny was watching him, so he explained, "I was just thinking what a good Captain he makes."

She grinned broadly. "I know. I'm so, so proud of him! Fred and George are beside themselves. I only wish Mum and Dad could have come."

Harry frowned. "They couldn't…make it to his first game?"

"They and Bill are in Romania with Charlie, on…business," she said, giving him a significant look so he knew it was Order business. "Sorry, you weren't there when we got their letter. They'll be home tomorrow, but they had to miss the game. They're coming to the Ravenclaw match."

" _That_ one will be exciting," said Ron, dropping back to join them. "This one shouldn't be too difficult—not that that's an excuse to be lazy," he added, pointing to each of them in turn. They giggled and nodded. "Right! Here we go!"

With whoops of excitement, the Gryffindors mounted their brooms and soared out into the Quidditch stadium to the roar of the Saturday crowd. Harry saw Fred and George with Hermione and Neville. There was no less than a sign for every member of the team—probably the twins' doing:

**_Weasley_ ** **_Is Our King!_ **

**_Weasley_ ** **_Is Our Queen!_ **

**_D.A. Loves Potter!_ **

Harry laughed out loud, then pumped his fists over his head at the Gryffindors as the team took their positions. Ginny gave him a thumbs-up, and Ron winked before shaking hands cheerfully with a rather-tense Zacharias Smith. Harry couldn't keep the grin off his face; no, this wasn't same Ron who had nearly gone to pieces before the start of season last year!

 _I am so, so proud of him!_ And it didn't even occur to Harry to be jealous.

Then the Quaffle was thrown, and they were off. Ron was right; conditions were perfect. Harry circled smoothly, keeping an eye on the Hufflepuff Seeker and smiling to himself as the commentary from Dean Thomas indicated Ron had made a major save.

Ginny had the Quaffle, and shot across the field toward the Hufflepuff scoring zone with Dennis and Katie flanking her. Harry had a hard time keeping his eyes on the pitch and off Ginny as she streaked along with Zacharias hot on her heels. She'd tangled with Tom Riddle at age eleven; she could handle Zacharias, even if he was on a Nimbus.

As the Hufflepuff Seeker threw up his hands as Ginny scored, Harry spotted a flicker of gold high up near the teachers' stands. He shot upward and heard the shouts of excitement from the crowd. "Potter must see the Snitch, either that or he's got homework to turn in—" Dean fancied himself a comedian. "Jacobs is following, putting his Comet to the test even though he's chasing a Firebolt! There they go, but—aah!"

Harry ducked instinctively as a Bludger whizzed past his head, then managed swerved to avoid the other one, nearly crashing back into Frank Jacobs, the Hufflepuff seeker. "Close calls for both Seekers, there, but they're all right!" Dean yelled.

Harry gave an apologetic wave to Jacobs, and got one in return; the Snitch had vanished anyway. He was starting to drop down again when the whole stadium tilted crazily. _Oh no, not now!_ He grabbed his Firebolt's handle tightly as his head seemed to detach from his neck. He was so off-kilter he didn't dare raise a hand to signal. _No, no, stop it! Why now? Stop! Come ON!_ He tried desperately to focus his eyes on something, anything to get his bearings, but he couldn't. The Snitch could have been in front of his nose, and he could not have grabbed it.

Just then, he heard Madam Hooch blow her whistle and Dean announcing a time out. Thank goodness, someone had seen. There was a whoosh up next to him, then Ron had his arm. "Harry! You okay, mate?"

"No…I'm…bloody not…" Harry grunted, too disoriented to be tactful. "Can't…bloody…see!"

The rest of the team was rising toward him. "Let's get on the ground before he falls," said Ginny's voice, but all Harry could make out was a blur of red hair over a red uniform. _Too much red on this team_ , he thought hazily.

With Ron on one side of him and Ginny on the other, they descended. "Just need…a minute," Harry mumbled, but Ginny shushed him.

"It's all right. We're well up on them. Just concentrate on staying upright."

Frustrated and embarrassed, Harry knew she was right. He could hear the jeers of the Slytherin section and kept his eyes shut, hoping his head would sort itself out. Madam Hooch was waiting to meet them when they landed. "You don't look well, Potter. Weasley, are you pulling him?"

Harry heard Ron sigh miserably, and opened his eyes. "Ron, I—" His scar flared, making him gasp, and grab his forehead, while the others reached out to steady him as he lurched off balance. "I…oh no…something's…happening…"

A stab of incredible pain in his scar brought him to his knees, and he squinted through it, desperately turning toward the teachers' stands. "Harry, what's wrong!?" Ron cried.

Harry grabbed Madam Hooch. "Something…here…now! Tell Dumbledore—"

The thunderbolt _CRACK!_ of the first wizard Apparating INTO the Hogwarts grounds would stay in Harry's memory for the rest of his life. Screams of absolute panic rang out from the stands around them as a black robed wizard in a white mask appeared right on the field. With another _crack_ , there were two. Then three, then four, then…

Harry heard a curse shouted, then the arms still holding him let go, and he fell. The entire world was spinning, and he couldn't move, even as he heard screams of terror, shouts of curses, and cries of pain ringing out all around him. His scar burning this way could mean only one thing: it was happening. Voldemort was coming to Hogwarts, and Harry could not stop him. He was even more useless than he'd been when Snape had dragged him out of Voldemort's stronghold. He couldn't even throw a curse.

"Harry!" someone screamed nearby, and then a body was hovering protectively over him. Long red hair brushed his face.

"Ginny—no—"

"Shush! _Expelliarmus_ _! Stupefy!_ There's a dozen," she whispered, her weight holding him still as she propped herself up on one elbow to shoot hexes. " _Protego!_ Hang on. Help's coming."

Harry couldn't have protested or tried to stop her no matter how badly he wanted to. His head still refused to stop spinning and was only getting worse. If Voldemort appeared now and aimed his wand straight at Ginny, Harry would not be able to do anything. His scar was burning, but he didn't think Voldemort was coming any closer—yet.

Feet were coming toward them at a run. "Stay there, Gin!" said Ron's voice. "Hang on, Harry. _Stupefy!"_

With an effort, Harry looked past Ginny's shoulder. She was still crouched over him, but there appeared to be a ring of red heads around them—either three or six, Harry couldn't be sure. They were right in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, far too exposed in this chaos. Ginny was the only one with the sense to stay low—or maybe that was just because she was shielding Harry with her body. Didn't they realize that the group of them looked like a great big target with Harry in the middle?

And then what he feared most—what he had feared most for so long—finally happened. A flash of curse light blazed over their heads, making Ginny flinch above him, then they heard a cry and a thud.

George screamed. _"Fred!"_

"No! Stay there! I'll get him!" Ginny shouted. She scrambled off Harry, but then there was another flash close by, and she shrieked.

"Oh God! Gin!" Real panic was in Ron's voice.

With an effort, Harry turned his head. A Gryffindor Quidditch uniform was slumped beside a green jacket on the ground nearby. "No…" he moaned.

The world was spinning so madly around him that he thought he'd vomit, but he had to get to them. He managed to roll onto his stomach, keeping his blurry vision fixed on the pile of motionless clothing only feet away, then he dragged himself over to them and draped his body across them as best he could. _This can't be happening…not you too…wake up, SOMEBODY wake up!_

Ginny was moaning and twitching beneath him. In Fred beside her, there was no sign of life. Harry held onto both of them and wished for it all to stop.

After an eternity, the yells and curses and crashes gave way to moans and sobs and shouts for help. Someone yanked Harry off and began pulling at the bodies under him, crying, "Fred? Fred!"

Harry lay where he was on the ground, his head still spinning so badly that he couldn't see, his heart still pounding and stomach churning in anguish, and his chest heaving with silent sobs. This couldn't be happening…it couldn't…not them...why couldn't he just die if it would protect them…

Someone was sprinting toward them. "Harry! Ron—Ginny! Oh no, oh—"

"Harry!" he heard Ron choke out. "Herm—get—Harry!"

Then Hermione was kneeling beside Harry, searching for injuries. "D-did they get you?"

"No," Harry murmured, wishing they had. "Just…dizzy."

Hermione wiped her eyes furiously, then bent over him, feeling his forehead and poking and prodding him. "No fever…but your eyes look odd." Her voice still shook, but she was obviously trying to keep calm as she pulled him into a sitting position. "It's not your fault," she whispered. "It's not your fault."

Aurors and teachers were swarming around the Weasleys. Harry turned away and shut his eyes. Hermione hugged him, repeating over and over that it wasn't his fault. But with the cries and yells and George's sobbing in his ears, Harry couldn't even start to believe her. The only relief came because when the spinning _finally_ subsided, oblivion swiftly followed.

* * *

 

Harry was standing in front of a tall window in a dimly-lit room.

Voldemort was staring back at him.

"Now you and Dumbledore and your blood traitor professor know the price of interfering with me, Potter!" the Dark Lord hissed mockingly. "And your pitiful worshippers, the Weasleys, know the price of your friendship!"

Voldemort dissolved into maniacal laughter, but the strange thing was that Harry too was laughing, just as madly. Then he realized: the tall window was not a window at all.

It was a mirror.

* * *

 

"NOOO!" Harry flew upright, sending bedclothes in every direction, thrashing wildly. "No—you—monster—I'll kill—"

"Harry! Harry, stop!" Hands grabbed at him, trying to catch his swinging fists.

Once he fell out of bed, Harry realized he was in the hospital wing—and had narrowly avoided pummeling Hermione. He leaned against the side of the bed as he sat on the floor, gasping, "Dream—Voldemort—laughing—he said—Ginny? Fred?" He tried to scramble to his feet. "What happened, why are you—what am I—"

"Potter!" Professor McGonagall intercepted him, grabbing his shoulders. "They're alive. No one was killed."

Relief washed over him with such intensity that he swayed. Professor McGonagall and Hermione caught him, moving to guide him back to the bed, but he pulled away. "Where are they—where's Ron and George?"

 _"Potter!_ Calm _down!_ " Professor McGonagall ordered. Harry bit his lip and tried to get himself under control. Professor McGonagall's eyes were very red, he noticed, and her face was smudged, but her voice was steady. "I will take you to them, but you _must control yourself._ " She squeezed his shoulders gently. "I know you are very upset, but we cannot have hysterics here now."

It was only then that Harry's eyes registered the rest of the hospital wing. Every bed was occupied. Madam Pomfrey was directing an entire team of Healers, all of whom moved with an air of tightly-controlled desperation. Near the door, some students were even sitting on the floor in stunned silence, being bandaged by Professor Sprout and Remus Lupin. Remus looked up at Harry and mouthed something that Harry was too agitated to catch.

 _There must be fifty people in here!_ he thought, cold horror settling inside of him.

And Voldemort had just rubbed Harry's nose in it. _I'll kill you, you bastard. I'll KILL you for this!_

Hermione and Professor McGonagall were still watching him closely. Harry took a deep breath. "I'll be fine," he said in a strange voice.

Professor McGonagall nodded and led him further down the hospital wing. Harry realized with a rush of nausea that the injuries were progressively worse as they went along. A few white-faced parents were already sitting at some of the bedsides. Harry quickly looked away. The beds that Professor McGonagall brought him to were at the very end of the hospital wing, behind a screen. Harry jammed his teeth into his lower lip as they came around it.

Two Healers were hovering over one of the beds, working feverishly. In the other bed was a red-haired girl with very pasty skin who looked only half awake. In a chair between the two beds, pushed back against Ginny's by the Healers was George, looking completely unaware of anything else in the room but the silent form being labored over by the healers. Standing behind George, with his arms tightly around his older brother's shoulders, was Ron.

Ginny saw Harry first and weakly stretched out a hand toward him. "Harr…"

Harry's feet carried him forward before he knew it. Ron gasped at the sight of him and quickly pulled George out of the way so Harry could go to Ginny. He didn't even think, just grabbed her hand tightly. "Hey," he whispered.

She smiled and took a labored breath. "You…okay?"

"Yeah," he fought back a lump in his throat. "You?" _What a stupid question!_

But she still smiled and murmured, "Will be," and closed her eyes. Harry gave her hand a squeeze and stood up to ask Ron and George about Fred.

The minute he turned around, Ron practically fell into his arms, shaking like a leaf. Harry held on, frightened, as Ron choked out, "He might—he might not—they say—he can't—"

 _No. Oh no…_ Feeling helpless to do anything else, Harry hugged Ron, looking past him at George, who was still staring fixedly at Fred. Harry could not imagine George without Fred, and he could see that neither could George. What would it do to him if Fred…he shuddered. The thought was truly too horrible to entertain.

Just inside the screen, Professor McGonagall was watching George. Harry mouthed to her, _How bad?_

"We do not know yet," Professor McGonagall said softly.

Desperate for something, anything, to think about, Harry asked Ron, "Are your mum and dad on the way?"

Ron nodded, not relinquishing his grip on Harry. "Yeah, but…Romania…could be hours, maybe days!" Sitting on the edge of Ginny's bed, stroking her hair, Hermione moaned softly and reached out for Ron's hand. Ron looked desperately at Harry as though expecting him to provide answers. "I can't do it," he whispered. "I can't…" He looked from the sleeping Ginny to the ashen-faced George to Fred's bed, now surrounded by four healers. "I was never…there's always been them, or Bill, or Charlie, or Mum and Dad. I never had to take care…I need…but they're all gone…I wish…Percy…"

Harry looked over Ron's shoulder at Hermione. Her eyes widened. Professor McGonagall saw their faces and came forward. "Your family will be here very soon, Ronald. Come sit down with your brother." She gently pulled him away from Harry and pressed him into another chair.

George didn't appear to have heard a thing. Harry tried not to look at him as he knelt in front of Ron. Maybe there was something he could do after all. "Want me to owl Percy at the Ministry and ask him to come?"

Ron blinked like a confused little boy. "Yeah," he whispered. "I want Percy. He'll know what to do."

"All right. I'll be back soon," Harry promised and jumped up. Hermione followed him out.

As soon as they were outside the hospital wing, Harry broke into a dead run all the way to the Owlery. Hermione kept up and was pulling out a parchment and quill to hand to him as soon as he called Hedwig down. "Percy'll come for this," he said to her, scribbling feverishly. "He may hate me, but he loves them."

**Percy,**

**Please come to Hogwarts. There's been an attack and Fred and Ginny are hurt. Ron's asking for you.**

**Hurry please.**

Harry wrote **EMERGENCY** in big letters on the outside and gave it to Hedwig. "Take this to Percy Weasley, Undersecretary to the Minister. Peck him to pieces if he doesn't open it right away. Fast as you can."

Hedwig launched herself and soared out the window. Harry grimaced. "I didn't sign it. I probably should've sent it with another owl, maybe then he'd be less likely to throw it in the fire without opening it."

Hermione watched him pacing. "Something happened in America, didn't it?"

"Yeah. If he didn't wish me dead after that, he will after this," Harry muttered. "And I rather agree with him."

"Harry, stop!" Hermione cried. "This _isn't_ your fault, and I'll strangle him if he says it is. Don't do this to yourself."

As hard as he could, Harry drove his fist into the wooden wall with a loud crash, sending splinters flying everywhere. Hermione yelped, owls hooted indignantly, and the blow left an impressive dent in the wall. Harry slowly withdrew his bleeding hand, and Hermione stifled a sob.

His voice ragged in his ears, Harry said, "I had a vision."

"When?!"

"When it was over," he choked out. "Voldemort was talking to me. In a mirror, laughing…" he dropped to his knees, pressing his fists into his forehead, wishing he could crush his own skull. Hermione sniffled as she knelt in front of him.

"It's—still—not—your—fault!"

He got up, brushing dirt and straw off his pants absently. "Come on. Percy'll want to know what happened, if he comes."

"He'll come," Hermione said like a prayer. "They want him. He'll come."

They were walking toward the main entrance when Snape burst into the corridor ahead of them. "Potter!"

"Professor?" Hermione exclaimed.

From the looks of him, Snape had allowed the Healers to patch up the worst of his injuries, then run out of the hospital wing. His robes were still torn and stained, his face still dirty, and a small cut on his temple still oozed blood. Harry and Hermione waited as he strode toward them. "Granger, leave us, I require a…report from Potter."

Hermione obediently started to walk on, but Harry caught her arm and pulled her into an empty classroom, jerking his head at Snape to follow. He shut the door behind them and said, "You don't have to go, Hermione."

"Excuse me, Potter?" Snape was obviously in a very foul mood.

However, so was Harry. "You want to know if I had any dreams or visions about this, am I right, sir?"

"Correct," Snape growled.

"Well, Hermione already knows about them, so there's no point sending her away now." Harry scowled, though for once it wasn't directed at Snape. "Besides, it won't protect her or anybody else." Fury coarsed through him. "Voldemort told me."

"Potter!"

"Sorry, the Dark Lord told me. After I passed out. He was standing in front of a mirror, talking to me." _I'll kill him I'll kill him I'll kill him…_

Snape had forgotten all about Hermione's presence. His already-pallid face was losing what color was left in it. Harry even thought he heard a tremor in the Potions Master's low voice. "What _exactly_ did he say?"

"He said that now I and Dumbledore…and you…know the price of interfering with him. And that the…" Harry's throat closed, and he had to swallow hard, "the Weasleys knew the price of my friendship. And then he laughed."

Hermione raised a trembling hand to her mouth and sank into a desk. The Potions Master's expression changed little, but Harry could see something smoldering in his eyes that was very scary. Snape nodded slightly, his attention no longer on Harry, and steadied himself on a chair. Then his head snapped down to glare furiously at it as if it were the cause of everything, and Hermione squeaked in surprise as he seized it and hurled it across the room to shatter against the wall. Then, breathing hard, he headed for the door.

"Do not mention this vision to anyone else outside the Order, Potter. Least of all the Weasleys."

Harry swallowed thickly. "I wasn't planning on telling them."

Snape paused in the doorway to glare back at them. "Granger?"

"I won't say anything, Professor."

Snape turned away and walked stiffly out the door, looking as if he were barely restraining himself from pummeling the first person he saw. Harry took a deep breath. "For the first time in my life, I know _exactly_ how he feels."

"A group of Slytherins were seriously hurt," said Hermione. "I saw Professor Snape trying to get to you and Ron and the others, but he stopped to try and protect some of his first years. Those Death Eaters didn't spare anyone."

"I'll bet Malfoy got through it just fine," Harry snarled.

"I don't know; I haven't been thinking about him," said Hermione with a shrug, and she stood up. "Come on. Let's go wait for Percy. Hedwig ought to be arriving at the Ministry around now." They went down to the main entrance and sat watching the Aurors running around. "Everyone wants to know how Death Eaters could apparate into the grounds. Somehow the wards failed for a moment, enough for the Death Eaters to get in, but then when the Aurors came, the Death Eaters couldn't get out again."

"So they're all caught?" Harry asked.

"A couple are dead, but the rest are caught."

"Voldemort was close; I felt him. I wonder why he didn't join the fight himself," Harry mused.

"Hmm. Be sure and report that to someone."

"Right." Sitting outside the door with the grounds so unnaturally quiet was freeing up Harry's mind too much, and it was all coming back. Lying completely helpless and useless with curses flying everywhere, and only able to shield Fred and Ginny _after_ they'd been hit…Harry began to shiver, and Hermione put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's not your fault, Harry."

He choked out a laugh. "You keep saying that."

"Because it's true, and you ought to believe it."

Harry rested his forehead on his knees. "George wouldn't even look at me."

Hermione sniffled. "George hasn't looked at anyone since they got to the hospital wing. He's completely in shock." Her voice grew more ragged as she said, "I can't…even fathom…what it'll do to him if…"

"OY! Watch yourself there, Weasley!" yelled Mad-Eye Moody.

Harry and Hermione sprang to their feet. A figure in Ministry robes was pelting up the road from Hogsmeade, rumpled, glasses askew from having nearly plowed into two Aurors and not even slowing to right himself. His eyes suddenly met Harry's, and he sprinted even harder. Harry had never seen that look in Percy's eyes before—he also had never imagined Percy was so good a runner. He looked to have run all the way from the edge of the anti-apparation wards.

Harry braced himself for a stream of condemnations, of furious epithets, even a blow, but Percy just grabbed his shoulders, his eyes wild with naked panic.

"Where are they?!"

"Hospital wing," Harry blurted, stunned. Percy released him and bolted through the doors. Harry and Hermione ran after him.

Percy sprinted for the hospital wing as if his life depended on it, and Harry and Hermione were several strides behind him when he opened the door. He stopped then; they both knew why. The sight of the place had taken his breath away. Harry and Hermione caught up and led him to the back of the room, past all the other beds. Percy's face went paler and paler as he took in the extend of the injuries.

Behind the screen, two healers were performing some kind of slow spell on Fred. Harry hadn't been able to see him before, and the sight of that mad, obnoxious, golden-hearted Weasley twin lying so still and ashen-faced made Harry weak in the knees—to say nothing of what it did to Percy. He let out a ragged sob, and this made Ron look up. Even George turned and fixed wide, haunted eyes on his estranged brother. Then, to everyone's surprise, George made as if to get up from his chair, but his legs simply gave way, and he wound up on his knees on the floor.

Ron jumped up, but Percy got there first, kneeling and pulling George into his arms and rocking him like a little boy. George quietly began to sob. Percy held him with one arm and reached out to Ron with the other. Ron fell into the embrace with George in between them.

Harry couldn't stand it anymore. He turned and left.

* * *

 

Hogwarts was deathly silent. Even Peeves was subdued; Harry saw him hovering next to the entrance to the Great Hall, but he didn't seem to see Harry. It reminded Harry a little of George, and then it occurred to him that Peeves must know what had befallen his favorite students.

He finally retreated back to the empty classroom where he and Hermione had spoken with Snape earlier. He was still sitting and contemplating the chair Snape had broken when Hermione burst in, her eyes full of tears—but smiling. "There you are!" she panted.

Harry jumped up. "What? What happened?!"

"He made it! Fred! He's going to be all right!" Hermione could barely speak for sobbing. "The Healers say the worst is over!"

Harry felt a few sobs escape himself before he got a grip. "Oh…I…" he laughed, wiping his eyes. "Thank heavens. And Ginny? And how's George?"

"Ginny's going to be fine too. They'll have a long recovery, especially Fred, but it'll be total. George…well, he still doesn't speak, but he's sitting next to Fred now that the healers are done, and Percy got him to drink some water. Ron's sitting with Ginny."

Harry let out a long sigh that echoed in the empty room. "That's great. That's just…" he dropped into a chair, light-headed with relief.

Hermione was still grinning. "There's something else. Percy wants you to come back."


	17. The Enemy of My Enemy is My What?

With no small amount of apprehension, Harry allowed Hermione to lead him back to the hospital wing. Ron was sitting by Ginny's bed, Percy in the middle, and George was sitting next to Fred's bed, with his head resting on one arm on the mattress, and one hand covering his twin's. Percy looked up as Harry came behind the screen and smiled weakly. It made him look younger.

"You ought to be here too, Harry."

Well. Harry certainly hadn't expected _that._ Hermione had gone to sit down next to Ron, and Harry realized there was another chair there now. Shaking a little, he went and sat down.

George sat up and looked at Harry for the first time since the attack. Harry held his breath, but George smiled and held out an arm without speaking. The sparkle of mischief hadn't returned to his eyes—Harry knew it wouldn't until Fred woke up—but the haunted look was fading. Harry gratefully hugged George, then watched him return to the exact same position on the edge of the bed, staring at Fred's face.

* * *

 

A long time later, there were hushed voices outside the screen, then Madam Pomfrey came in with Professor McGonagall. She smiled at all of them, but said, "I suppose it's useless asking any of you to go and get some sleep?" Ron snorted, Harry and Hermione smiled, and Percy shook his head. "Well, George Weasley, you at least should rest." George ignored her, or maybe he didn't hear.

Professor McGonagall exchanged glances with Madam Pomfrey and rolled her eyes slightly. Then she went over to the bedside where George was leaning on the mattress and patted his shoulder fondly. Getting no response, she rested her hand on top of his red hair and began gently stroking his forehead with her thumb.

Harry and the others sat up in surprise as George's eyes drooped closed and his head drifted down onto his arm. When Professor McGonagall removed her hand, George was out. She smiled at them, took an extra blanket from Madam Pomfrey and draped it over George. "Shh," she said to them, and walked serenely from behind the screens.

Harry exchanged open-mouthed looks with the others. "Is that legal?" Percy wondered.

"Probably not," Hermione whispered, smiling at the twins, "but it was the right thing to do."

Movement from the other bed made them all turn. "Percy?" Ginny mumbled sleepily.

Hermione gave Percy her chair, and she and Harry stood behind Ron's, each with a hand on his shoulder as Percy went to sit with his sister. "How are you feeling, Gin?"

"Na' s'bad. When'd you get here?"

"A few hours ago. I'm sorry it wasn't sooner." Harry had never seen Percy this way before. His voice was very soft, his entire manner very…brotherly. And as close to tears as he was, he bore a striking resemblance to his mother.

Ginny smiled and said, "Glad you're back, you stupid git. Missed you."

"Me too. I…sorry, Gin. I'm sorry for everything." Percy rested his head on the edge of Ginny's pillow, talking softly with his eyes never leaving her face.

That was the sight that greeted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie when they came in around midnight. "Percy!" Bill gasped.

Harry and the others spun around. "Mum!" Ginny said weakly.

Mr. Weasley's eyes darted from his bedridden daughter to the twins, and he quietly sobbed into his hands. Mrs. Weasley, to Harry's astonishment, did not cry. She went to Ginny first, embracing her carefully. Then she hugged Ron, then Percy (so tightly that Harry feared both their ribs would break), then she went to the sleeping twins, gently kissing each one on the forehead.

"They'll be fine, Molly," said Professor Dumbledore's voice from behind them. Mr. Weasley didn't look up from where he was sitting on the twins' bed, but Mrs. Weasley turned. "Fred had a close shave, but we pulled him through."

"What was he hit with?" Bill asked Hermione.

"Remember the curse Dolohov used on me at the Department of Mysteries?" she muttered grimly. "It seems to be a Death Eater favorite—and this one had his voice. We're lucky he wasn't as skilled as Dolohov."

Harry shivered. Just then, Mrs. Weasley glanced over and seemed to see him for the first time. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Harry's heart began turning cartwheels, and it became hard to breathe. Ron, Hermione, even Percy in a roundabout way had told him they didn't blame him, and he had assumed Mrs. Weasley would be the same.

But now, with one son almost dead and her only daughter seriously hurt…Harry wondered: _would_ she still care for him? She had once counted Harry as one of her sons—to Sirius, no less—but…after this…would she still? Or would she want nothing more to do with him? Harry swallowed hard as Mrs. Weasley came toward him, thinking matter-of-factly that if _she_ pushed him away, he'd walk calmly up to the Astronomy Tower and jump off.

Mrs. Weasley stopped in front of him, then seized the sides of his face in her hands and cried, "Don't you _dare_ blame yourself for this, Harry Potter!"

Behind them, Ron sniffled loudly, Hermione burst into tears, and Harry gladly hid his face in Mrs. Weasley's shoulder to stop himself from doing the same. The rest of the Weasleys came to echo their matriarch's sentiment, and soon after that, Fred and George woke up.

Fred stirred first, just a little, causing a hush to fall over the rest of them, and George was up like a shot, grabbing Fred's hand and watching him with wild eyes. With Madam Pomfrey's approval, Bill bundled Ginny in her blanket and carried her over to the twins' bedside.

As they all watched silently, Fred's eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. His groggy gaze traveled over all of them to finally settle on his white-faced twin. He licked his lips and murmured, "'Lo, old boy. Wha'd I miss?"

George collapsed onto the mattress, sobbing, as Fred grinned weakly and patted his head. Then Mrs. Weasley was crying, then all of them were crying—but laughing at the same time.

It was a fitting way for Fred Weasley to wake up.

* * *

**_HOGWARTS ATTACKED!_ **

**_Wards Compromised Temporarily, Aurors Report…_ **

_The first inter-House Quidditch match at Hogwarts School was tragically interrupted Saturday by fourteen Death Eaters apparating into the grounds. Victims appear to have been targeted at random, resulting in more than forty injuries among the student body and faculty, however no deaths are reported. Some witnesses have told the_ Daily Prophet _that the assailants paid particular attention to the Gryffindor House Quidditch team, whose Seeker is Harry Potter._

_It is confirmed that the Boy-Who-Lived was among the wounded, but reports conflict over whether he was injured during the attack itself or immediately beforehand in a Quidditch accident. It is unquestionable, however, that Potter was targeted by the Death Eaters, and two of the worst injuries were sustained by Fred and Ginevra Weasley in their heroic defense of the Boy Who Lived._

Harry sighed heavily, looking at the picture of himself draped over the motionless Fred and Ginny as Aurors ran toward them immediately after the battle. "I wasn't injured," he muttered. "Just bloody useless."

"Stop talking that way!" Hermione scolded. "Obviously those dizzy spells happened because Voldemort did something to you to keep you down."

"She's right," said Ginny, taking the paper away. "He probably knew between you and Dumbledore, you'd make short work of the Death Eaters." She sat back against the piled-up pillows of her hospital bed and read aloud, "' _Early Auror speculation is that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was present at the edge of Hogwarts grounds and that he was able to disable the wards in time for his followers to apparate in. However, as the Death Eaters were unable to apparate out again and thus were apprehended, the Ministry says that we may consider this a failed attack._

 _'However, many parents of injured students are finding this poor consolation, and demand increased security at the school._ '"

Harry smiled at her. "You skipped the part about my being a potential danger to the school."

"I do not read twaddle," Ginny replied primly.

Hermione gave Harry a warning look, so he bit back all he wanted to say. Still, that didn't stop him from thinking it. _They were the targets, not me. I've made them all targets._

Just then, Percy came in with Professor Dumbledore and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Fred and George were both asleep again. "Feeling all right?" Percy asked Ginny, kissing her forehead.

"Better," she replied.

Dumbledore remarked, "Perhaps we should obtain an extra bed for George while his brother is here."

"That might be wise," chuckled Mrs. Weasley. "I can't see anyone prying him out until Fred is released." She shook her head. "I suppose it's too much to hope they'll be less reckless after this."

"For one, maybe," said Percy, looking at the slumbering twins. "Fred might still think himself immortal, but I think George has had a scare he won't soon forget." He sighed. "I'd much prefer they hadn't."

Everyone nodded grimly. A quiet word with Hermione after being evicted from the hospital wing the previous night had revealed to Harry just how close to death Fred had come. It still made him sick to think about it.

Mrs. Weasley had gone to fuss over Ginny, so Harry stood up to give them space. Percy stepped toward him then. "Harry, may I have a word?" he asked quietly.

Harry's stomach lurched. With that hellish Saturday behind them, he had realized this morning that there were many things left unsaid between himself and Percy. And he wasn't at all looking forward to the interview. Still, judging by the meaningful looks Ginny and Ron were giving their older brother, this wasn't Percy's decision alone, and it would be easier on the rest of the Weasleys if Harry and Percy laid their quarrels to rest. So he nodded and followed Percy out.

They walked outside, where the shocked silence of the school felt less oppressive, and stopped near the greenhouses. Percy toed the dirt, avoiding Harry's eyes, a far cry from the pompous, posturing figure who had strutted along in Fudge's wake before. He took a deep breath and said, "I'm sure you know what this is about, so I'll just come straight out with it: I owe you an apology. Several, in fact—don't interrupt!" he added, as Harry opened his mouth to give the obligatory protest. "There's no denying…I've been…my behavior's been inexcusable to you for over a year."

Harry shrugged, looking awkwardly through the greenhouse windows. "I wasn't exactly nice to you in America."

Percy smiled bitterly. "No, but…you were right. About my family and…my actions."

Swallowing hard, Harry muttered, "You were right about me, too. My being a danger. I'm sorry," he forced himself to look at Percy. "I really am…I wish Ron had never met me."

Percy raised a hand. "No. That's not fair. Harry, I…I understand now. My parents and my brothers and Ginny. Why they care and what it means and…why that's not your fault. And why Ron would die for you."

"Don't say that!" Harry groaned, resting his forehead against the greenhouse wall. "I can't…can't think about that. He shouldn't have to think about that, I'm just his friend."

"You mean as much to him as Fred means to George," Percy said quietly, and Harry buried his face in his hands, hating himself for how those words made him feel. There was nothing good about it. Why did it seem like such a sure thing that _Ron_ might have to die for _Harry_? Why couldn't _Harry_ die or get hurt for _Ron_ or one of the others? Why were the people Harry loved the ones who had to suffer?

 _He'd be better off if he'd never met me,_ Harry thought again. _He'd be safe. They'd all be safe._ Aloud, he said, "I'm sorry I can't protect them. I didn't know. I swear I didn't know."

"I know now it's not your fault."

"I should've realized," Harry protested. "If I had, if I'd stopped to think…it wouldn't have gone this far, but now it's too late. They'll never be safe."

"That's You-Know-Who's doing," said Percy, with such conviction that Harry stared at him. "Not yours."

Leaning back against the warm glass, Harry asked, "What made you change your mind?"

"Well…" Percy awkwardly looked away. "That's something else I need to tell you—but you'd better sit down first."

Puzzled, Harry followed him to a cluster of tree stumps, and they sat. "What is it?"

"There's something…" Percy glanced around them, then told Harry slowly, "I should have told you sooner, but I honestly didn't realize you hadn't seen anything at all."

"Seen? Seen what? When?" Harry demanded, growing alarmed.

Percy studied his feet. "That day in the Capitol, when the Pillar of Storgé exploded."

Harry's heart began to race. "Something happened…when I was…"

Percy nodded. "I thought you should know, but," he raised a cautionary hand, "it'll come as a shock. A big one."

Harry swallowed thickly. "I understand. Tell me."

With a deep breath, Percy began, "When I saw You-Know-Who…right _there_ , dueling Professor Snape, I just…froze. I couldn't even…didn't even try to help." He shook his head. "Some Gryffindor I am. But then you touched the Pillar, and for a moment the dust was so thick we couldn't see a thing. When it started to settle, I saw Professor Snape getting up. He'd lost his wand, and You-Know-Who was going to kill him."

"I remember," Harry murmured, confused.

Percy continued, "Just then, when Lord…when he was about to kill Professor Snape, I saw something…it looked like the dust was just swirling, but then…there was someone there, next to Professor Snape. Then they got in front of him, to stop You-Know-Who."

"Mum!" Harry breathed, but Percy shook his head.

"No…Professor Snape was so surprised he fell over some debris, but when we looked…the person in the dust, in front of you…it was a man." Percy's face was solemn as he regarded Harry. "I've seen him in pictures, and…you do look just like him."

Harry's mouth was too dry for words. _Dad? My dad was there too?_ "My dad…"

Percy nodded, looking at his feet. "I don't think I've ever seen Professor Snape so shocked, you see…your dad looked at him, just for a moment, before facing off You-Know-Who again. Then Professor Snape looked back for you, and so did I….that's when we saw your mother."

"I felt her," Harry whispered. "She…they…"

"You were just sitting up," said Percy. "The dust swirled up, then there was a woman, kneeling beside you. She put her arms round you, like she was shielding you, and you just sort of went limp."

"She was protecting me…"

Percy nodded. "You-Know-Who just stared at them, then disapparated. They scared him off somehow."

"Then what happened?" Harry demanded.

"It was…weird. Your father turned and looked at you and your mother, smiling a little. Then they both looked at Professor Snape. I couldn't really see your father's face, but your mother, the way she looked…almost like she was asking him for something. Pleading, sort of. Then they disappeared."

Harry was quiet for a long time. The truth was, he forgot Percy was even there. His mind was reeling, his heart pounding, his throat painfully tight; his parents had been with him. Both of them. His father had faced down Voldemort while his mother had held him and whispered in his mind that everything would be all right. His dad had even protected _Snape_

No wonder Snape had been acting so odd. Harry wondered idly what his father had looked like to Snape, and what his mother had been trying to ask.

Why had everyone else been able to see Harry's parents except Harry himself? He tried and failed to quash a surge of resentment. To Percy, he muttered, "Thanks. For telling me." _But why did I have to hear it from YOU! Dumbledore must have known, and couldn't Snape have been decent enough for THAT if nothing else! They're my PARENTS!_

Percy said reluctantly. "Harry…there's one other thing. You ought to know, but…I can't tell you unless you swear it goes to no one else. Not Ron, not Ginny, not Hermione. Especially not the twins."

Harry was startled; he didn't like the thought of keeping anything from his friends now, not with all the other things he had to hide to protect them. "Why?"

"Because the consequences for both of us will be very severe if this gets out," Percy said firmly. "I'm sorry, I know you don't keep many secrets from Ron, but if he or any of the others found out," he smiled wryly. "I'm afraid my siblings would be too proud of me to keep their mouths shut."

Baffled, Harry let curiosity get the better of him. "All right."

"I have your word?"

"Yes."

Percy looked sheepish. "You know I saw what happened outside the Pillar chamber." Harry nodded. "I was very…rattled; I went straight back to tell the Minister. It wasn't to hurt you," he added hastily. "I thought the Minister could help. He and Dumbledore, I mean. I thought they could find a way to stop You-Know-Who from…taking over you like that."

Harry nodded. "It's not fun. What happened?"

Percy sighed, frustration and bitterness vivid on his face. Harry recognized that look, of someone whose every ideal and faith had been beaten down. He'd worn it himself fairly recently. "He…the Minister…wanted to tell the _Daily Prophet_ ," he said, in a voice fraught with betrayal. "After I'd written my report, he told me to take it to them, and…he was talking about taking you from Hogwarts."

"What! What for?"

Percy's eyes were dark and a little frightened. "He said maybe the Aurors could watch you until the next time it happened, and then…"

Harry's heart went to his throat. He remembered Dumbledore's words: _His aim in possessing you would not have been my destruction. It would have been yours._ "But…that wouldn't destroy Voldemort," he said faintly. "Only kill me. That's why he does it."

"I know!" Percy exclaimed in despair. "I gathered that from what you—he—said to Professor Snape!" He clenched his fists. "And I tried to tell the Minister, but he didn't care. He was almost…excited when I told him, as though…he'd been waiting for an opportunity like this. He _wanted_ …" Percy's voice was disbelieving, "I don't understand. He kept ranting about Dumbledore using you to get all the glory. I told him he'd be killing you, but he said…you were the reason You-Know-Who came back in the first place."

Harry had his arms wrapped around his knees, but still felt very cold. Fudge wanted him dead. That was what Percy was trying to say, trying to warn him. Fudge really _did_ have it in for him. "So…how come I haven't been arrested?" he joked weakly.

Percy's ears began glowing red the same way Ron's did. It made Harry feel a little better, for some reason. "I…this is why you can't mention it to the others. When the Minister wouldn't see reason, I destroyed the report, and…I Obliviated him."

Harry felt his jaw drop. _Percy Weasley! Attack the MINISTER OF MAGIC!_

"Uh…thanks."

* * *

 

"Lee took over the shop for this week," Ron told Harry in the common room Sunday night. "And Percy and Bill are helping. Fred should be released next week, maybe by Sunday if he follows Madam Pomfrey's instructions."

"Fat chance of that," said Ginny, coming to join them. She'd been released that afternoon.

Hermione, sitting next to Ron checking his Transfiguration homework, nibbled on her quill thoughtfully. "I don't know. Percy may be right about George after this. He's at least realized they're not immortal."

Ron shuddered, scooting closer to her. "I wish they hadn't had to find out like this."

Harry tried to concentrate on his Specialized Defense homework. He couldn't stop thinking about what Percy had told him. Percy and Snape had seen Harry's parents. Cornelius Fudge was willing to kill him, and the _Daily Prophet_ was already speculating that he was putting the school in danger.

And what had passed between his parents and Snape? The questions teemed in his head.

"Harry?"

He blinked. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were watching him with guarded expression, then they exchanged glances in a way that made him snap, "What!"

"Nothing!" Hermione exclaimed. "We just…you were looking distracted, and we wanted—I mean—if you were okay," she mumbled awkwardly.

Harry grabbed his books. "I'm fine," he said crossly. "And if you're all just going to whisper and nudge each other and not tell me what's going on, I'll go upstairs and leave you to it!" He stomped peevishly up to the dormitory.

After he'd been tossing around in his bed for some time, he heard someone come in. "Harry?" said Ron tentatively. "You all right?"

Harry sighed; he shouldn't have snapped at them. They weren't the ones he was really upset with. "Yeah."

"Is…anybody else in here?"

"Don't think so."

The sound of Ron investigating the beds and bathroom made Harry look up curiously. Ron's face was already fully red when he came back. "What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"I…guess I've got something to tell you." Ron stared at his feet. "Hermione's right; it's a stupid thing to keep secret from you."

Harry was getting nervous. What _had_ they been whispering and elbowing each other about all this time? _Bloody hell, I don't know how many more earth-shattering revelations I can face today!_ Nonetheless, he waited, and Ron came and sat on the foot of his bed, staring at the wall. "Well? What's going on?"

"Well…" Ron was so flushed there was sweat on his face. "Uh…er…it's me and Hermione, you see, we…ah…we're what's going on."

"You and Hermione…" Harry frowned in confusion. "What are you and Herimione…wait a minute…" In his head, something clunked into place. He gaped at Ron. "You and Hermione!"

"Shh!" Ron hissed, even though the dormitory was empty. His face looked like a tomato. He dared a quick glance at Harry, then stared at the floor again. "Yeah. That's it. I mean, that's all, I mean, not that it's nothing, but I mean…I wish she hadn't made me tell you myself," he grumbled. "She's better at this sort of thing."

Still in shock, Harry asked vaguely, "Why, er, why did she want you to do it?"

Ron shrugged. "Something about this being a 'man-to-man' conversation. I think she was just scared to tell you."

"Why would she be scared?"

"Well…" Some of the redness was starting to leave Ron's face at last. "You have been a bit…touchy. I mean, we'd have told you sooner, but you'd been sick, and then it just…never seemed the right time…" he trailed off, watching Harry as though waiting for an explosion.

Exploding didn't occur to Harry; he was too busy trying to put it all together. "So…" he said slowly, "you and Hermione…I mean…Hermione's your _girlfriend?_ "

Blood rushed to Ron's face again. "Uh, well, I guess she's…kind of…uhm…yeah." He gave a jerky little nod of finality. "Yeah."

Harry rested his chin on his knees. "When did that happen?" he wondered out loud.

"Well…you see, we didn't actually _mean_ for it to," Ron stammered. "It was kind of weird…it was over the summer, when you were missing, and we were just…sort of…crying on each other's shoulders all the time." He shrugged helplessly. "Anyway, it just sort of…happened. You're not upset, are you?" he blurted.

"No," Harry said automatically. "No, of course not."

But wasn't he? Why wasn't he happy for them? He ought to laugh, he ought to tease Ron and Hermione mercilessly, he ought to feel…something. But he just felt strange.

There was a very odd sort of queasiness in his stomach. He couldn't be jealous of Ron, could he? Over Hermione? Hermione was just his friend; he'd never felt _that_ way about her, had he?

No, when it came down to it, thinking about her like _that_ just seemed odd. So if he wasn't jealous, why wasn't he happy for them?

He heard Ron get up and leave, but was so consumed with his own thoughts that he didn't call after him. Why did this feel so funny? If they were happy, wasn't that all that mattered?

_My best friend's got a girlfriend…who happens to be my other best friend. And they didn't tell me._

Why _had_ they kept it a secret? Now that they were…them…would they keep other secrets? Would they want to go to Hogsmeade together without Harry tagging along? _Will they still have time for me?_ whined a plaintive little voice in his mind.

Ron and Hermione were…Ron and Hermione. So where did that leave Harry?

 _I've got no right to think like this,_ he told himself angrily. _I've never been a really good friend, and they're a lot better off with each other than with me!_ He thought of the way he'd treated them, especially last year, and cringed. No wonder this had happened, really, he'd practically driven them into each other's arms. _But they said they'd stand by me,_ the little voice whined again.

A commotion in the stairwell broke through his musings. "Oh, _honestly,_ Ronald, I told you what needed to be said!"

"Why couldn't you explain it then, I thought you were his friend too!"

"Will you two please—"

"Stay out of this, Ginny!"

"You're only going to upset him more!"

"We just have to explain—"

Harry braced himself as two red heads and one brunette burst into the dormitory, all talking at once.

"Harry, I'm sorry, Ron made it sound like—"

"This doesn't change anything!"

"Just let them sort themselves out, Harry—"

"You're our best friend in the world—"

"We're not going to abandon you—"

"We promise!"

Ron and Hermione looked on the verge of pouncing on Harry, but Ginny hauled them both away with a wave of her wand. "HEY! Don't smother the man!"

"This doesn't concern _you_ , Ginny!" Hermione huffed.

"THAT'S IT! _OUT!_ Both of you, OUT!" Ginny roared, causing Ron, Hermione, _and_ Harry to jump in surprise. Ron and Hermione might have protested, but Bastet decided to enforce her mistress's command and launched herself at them with a screech, sending them sprinting for their lives back down the stairwell.

As the savage yowls echoed away down the stairs, Harry stared after them until Ginny turned around, calmly brushing a lock of hair from her face. "Well, now that the happy couple are taking a breather," she plunked herself down upon Ron's bed. "How _do_ you feel about it?"

"I…aah…" Harry hemmed nervously. Her bluntness was both refreshing and disconcerting.

Ginny's face softened a little, and she came to sit on the foot of Harry's bed. "Are you okay with it? It's all right to tell the truth."

"Um…I…" Harry took a deep breath and pulled his scattered thoughts together. "I…really, I am okay with, er, with them being…"

" _Them_?" Ginny finished slyly. He forced a smile and nodded. "Pfft, I told Hermione that 'man-to-man' business wouldn't work. Ron, explain his feelings? Hah!"

Harry folded his feet beneath him, examining the bedspread. "I guess it just surprised me. It's just…" before he knew it, words came tumbling out. "It's always been the three of us, as long as I can remember. The three of us. I just…didn't expect it to be the two of them."

"It _is_ still the three of you, Harry," said Ginny firmly. "Don't you see? Didn't Ron tell you anything about how they, well, got to be _them_ in the first place?"

"Not really," he said. "Something about last summer."

Ginny looked solemnly at him. "You can't begin to imagine what it was like when you were missing. Ron and Hermione felt it worse than anyone, except maybe Professor Lupin." She smiled sadly. "They were worse than me—and that's saying something. They just sort of wound up…holding on to each other. All the time, it was just how they coped, until one thing sort of led to another." She grinned. "Between that and the fact that Ron's been mad about her for two years—"

"What!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," said Ginny, rolling her eyes in a fashion disturbingly like Hermione. "You boys! How can you not have noticed? He's been pining after Hermione since the Yule Ball!"

Harry pondered Ron's behavior at the Ball and since, and frowned to himself. "Is that why he gave her perfume last Christmas?"

Ginny giggled and nodded.

"And why he gets so cross when she writes to Viktor Krum?"

"Yep!" she said with a grin.

"Wow. I never did notice," Harry mused, feeling the tight knot in his insides starting to loosen. "I thought he was just being…Ron."

" _Ron_ is mad about Hermione—and that's yet another reason why he gets cross when she mothers you," Ginny added smugly.

"What?" Harry felt blood rushing to his face. "But I…but she's not…"

"Just ignore it," Ginny said. "You know he gets jealous of you for silly reasons." She scooted closer to Harry and patted his knee. "Never mind. He knows he's the one she _likes_ , even if she fusses over you." She rolled her eyes. "And he knows you need a little fussing over."

"I do not!" Harry exclaimed.

"Do too!" she teased.

"Do not!"

A little while later, Harry came downstairs to find Ron playing one-man wizard's chess in the common room. "Where's Hermione?" he asked.

"Upstairs, defending Crookshanks from Bastet."

"Oh." Harry sat down across from Ron and reset the board. Ron was watching him nervously. At last, Harry looked up at him and grinned. "So…does this mean you've _kissed_ her?"

_"Harry!"_

* * *

 

Classes began normally on Monday, though about twenty students were still in the hospital wing. But Harry found himself once again the target of almost-constant whispers and hostile or fearful stares. It wasn't as bad as second year, when half the school had thought he was the heir of Slytherin, or fourth year, when everyone thought he'd entered himself in the Triwizard Tournament (or even fifth year when they'd all thought he was stark, raving mad.) But it was still unpleasant. People shied away from him, looking around when he passed in the corridors as though expecting to see Death Eaters trailing after him.

What made this so much worse was that this time, Harry knew their feelings were justified. As long as he was at Hogwarts, Voldemort would threaten the school.

It bothered him so much that he went to Professor Lupin after NEWT Defense and asked if he'd be better off at Headquarters. "I don't want to endanger anyone."

Lupin handed Harry a cup of tea and sat down at a desk next to him. "You don't really want to leave Hogwarts, do you? For Headquarters of all places?"

"No, of course not!" Harry exclaimed. "But I don't want Voldemort to keep coming after Hogwarts and hurting people."

He stared at the top of the desk as Lupin leaned toward him. "Harry, you are not the only reason Lord Voldemort is targeting Hogwarts. If you left today, it would not spare us his attentions."

Harry sighed. "Maybe divert them for a bit."

"Not likely. Besides, to send you away would greatly reduce your own safety."

"I'm not more important than everyone else!" Harry said angrily. "I'm not worth that. It's not fair!"

Lupin put a hand on his shoulder. "No one ever said it was fair. You're quite right that it isn't—and as for what your life is worth, I beg to differ, but that's another matter. You are as entitled to safety as any other student, and the safest place for anyone in times like these is Hogwarts."

Harry got up and walked over to the grindylow's tank. "I hate this," he muttered. "I hate them being in danger because of me."

"It's _not_ because of you. It's because of Lord Voldemort. We keep telling you, Harry, all you need to do is believe us. You are not to blame." Remus came and stood beside him. "Stop hating yourself. That's the last thing your parents and Sirius would want."

Biting his lip, Harry nodded. "I…I know. I just wish I knew what to do."

"What you've been doing: live your life. And pay attention in Defense," Remus smiled, and Harry had to return it. "Just live, and don't give up. It's not up to you to save the world."

 _But it is up to me,_ Harry thought miserably. He wished he could tell Remus, but it would only upset him to hear the prophecy. Not to mention giving Voldemort another reason to go after him.

* * *

 

All day Monday, Harry found himself almost looking forward to Occlumency, although not because he missed the pleasure of Snape's company. Snape had seen Harry's parents in the Pillar chamber. They had looked at him; if Percy was right, they had tried to tell him something. Harry couldn't stop thinking about it—not even when he noticed that Ron and Hermione were holding hands under the table during dinner. They were his _parents!_ He had a right to see them!

So when Filch came to collect him, he went almost eagerly, and had his wand out almost as soon as he walked into Snape's office. "I trust there have been no more…communications from the Dark Lord, Potter?"

"No, nothing else," Harry said distractedly.

Snape frowned at him. "Then what is the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Harry lied—badly. Why couldn't they just start?

But Snape did not raise his wand. His cold, hard gaze seemed to bore right through Harry, and Harry wondered bitterly what he was seeing. "Potter, answer me."

Harry's throat tightened, and frustration burned his insides. It wasn't _fair!_ He glowered at the floor. "Why didn't you tell me what really happened in America?"

Well, that certainly got Snape's attention. The Potions Master stepped back so quickly he bumped into his chair, which in turn fell over and knocked a jar of dragon liver off the wall shelf. Snape repaired it before turning back to fix Harry with a fierce glare. "How do you know about that?" he hissed.

"Percy Weasley told me!" Harry burst out. "You were there, you must have told Dumbledore about it, every bloody wizard in the chamber that day saw it, and I had to hear it from Percy!"

Trembling with anger, Snape growled, "That is none of your affair—"

"They're my parents! It _is!_ I had a right to see them!"

"That is not my problem, Potter—"

"They told you something, didn't they? What did they tell you?"

"POTTER! I have _nothing_ to say about it!" Snape roared.

Shaking with fury, his stomach churning, eyes stinging, Harry hissed, "Why is it _you_ got to see them?" The small, lingering fragment of rationality in him said that it wasn't Snape's fault, but Harry didn't care about being rational.

White-faced, easily as angry as Harry was, Snape snarled, "Had I the choice, I would not have, and this matter has nothing to do with the task at hand. Now stop this ridiculous whining and clear your mind!"

Harry had no intention of doing any such thing; he thought he knew one way to find out what had happened. He'd never tried to do this intentionally, but…he concentrated hard as Snape raised his wand. _"Legilimens!"_

It worked—at least the first part did. Images rolled past Harry's mind, but he was so set on his own objective that he paid no attention to them, and it was only a few seconds before he was able to raise his own wand. _"Protego!"_

He blasted into Snape's mind, no longer helplessly carried on the current of his spell but actively searching. He saw a blonde boy with his arm around a greasy-haired teenager…Voldemort was aiming his wand at Snape with the Pillar glowing behind them… _There!_

"ENOUGH!" A Disarming Spell hit Harry so hard that he was thrown backwards into the wall and crashed to the ground. Winded and gasping, he rolled onto his back and saw Snape glaring at him. "You're transparent as glass, Potter, I knew you would try that."

Harry scowled and pulled himself to his feet without answering. Snape went on, "If you do not learn to manage your emotions, you will be completely useless in this war."

"You're a fine one to talk!" Harry shot back. " _Sir!_ "

Snape's lip curled. "Perhaps so. But _I_ am not the one upon whom the fate of the entire wizarding world unfortunately rests. How many more will be dead or wounded before you shed your arrogant refusal to control yourself?"

"You bloody hypocrite!" Harry shouted. Snape's grudges were the reason Sirius had died, the reason Harry hadn't been able to shield himself last year, the reason Sirius wasn't freed and Lupin had lost the DADA job third year! Voldemort might never have come back if it hadn't been for Snape! "You've always got an excuse, don't you? It's okay for _you_ to refuse to let old grudges die and make people as miserable as possible even when they're on your side! Wasn't your old _job_ important? Why'd you spend so much time undermining the Order if this war was so very, very important to you!"

Snape bared his teeth, eyes blazing, and roared, "OUT!"

"GLADLY!" Harry shouted back and dashed for the door. He stormed back to Gryffindor Tower and went up to the dormitory without talking to Ron and Hermione. He tossed and turned for a long time, but couldn't sleep. Snape was such…a…bloody…bastard!

 _It's not my fault! I'm trying! Maybe if he weren't pulling the floor out from under me every other lesson…_ He fell asleep eventually, still fuming.

* * *

 

He was standing in a very dark doorway, looking out as moonlight filtered through a very deep green canopy of trees. There were no sounds from the woods, and the moon's light did not reach the forest floor, nor did it touch the stone stairs beneath Harry's feet.

There were people behind him; he could sense them, awaiting his decision. One of them, robed in black with a white mask like the others, stepped hesitantly forward. "Are you pleased with it, Master?"

As it happened, he was most pleased with it, but he had no intention of letting them know. His servants needn't become complacent. He turned his back on the dark woods, and the black-robed, masked wizards pulled back even so slightly.

Harry spoke, his voice high and cold, but betraying the slightest hint of the satisfaction he felt. "This will do."


	18. Actions and Words

"Harry? Hey! You're going to miss breakfast, you lazy—hey!" Harry woke up to insistent shaking, and a very exasperated voice.

"Mm? Wha—" His head felt heavy and foggy, and his scar was burning. He blinked repeatedly, and Ron came into focus out of a blur of red.

Once he'd put his glasses on, he saw that Ron was frowning. "You all right, mate?"

"Yeah," he muttered, untangling the bed clothes. "Just a little thick-headed."

Ron waited while he got dressed. "You looked upset when you got back last night. Did something happen in…detention?"

"Just Snape being Snape," Harry assured him, forcing a smile.

He was still in a lousy mood for most of the day Tuesday, to the point where he decided to go talk to Remus. But adding insult to injury, he arrived at Professor Lupin's office and realized it was full moon starting that night. Remus had looked peaky during class that morning, and now he would be gone until Friday.

Harry was leaving the empty room, feeling very cross, when Professor Smythe-Wellington came in. "What are you doing here, Mr. Potter?"

"I was looking for Professor Lupin," Harry said crossly.

"Indeed?" she said, raising an eyebrow, her tone faintly disbelieving. "You have noticed it is full moon, have you not?"

"I have now," Harry muttered, and stalked out to avoid giving her a chance to say anything else.

And, predictably, she got him for it the next day when he arrived in NEWT Defense and found her substituting for Lupin. "You're in for it now," Ron muttered at him. "She's looking right at you."

Smythe-Wellington stood up, running a haughty gaze over all of them. "I understand that Professor Lupin has been instructing you in matters of psychological defense." She was answered by a few nods. "In keeping with that subject, today we shall be discussing emotional discipline. Those of you in Specialized Defense will note that we begin this same lesson in Friday's class as well. Now. Who can describe to me the meaning of emotional discipline?"

Hermione very tentatively raised her hand. "It means…not letting ourselves be provoked?" She glanced sideways at Harry, and he felt a little prickle of irritation.

Smythe-Wellington had noticed the glance, and her lips twitched slightly. "Partially correct, Miss Granger, but you must go further. Particularly in a combat situation, what does emotional discipline manifest as?" No one answered, but she seemed to have expected that. "Detachment."

Harry was honestly puzzled. How could you be "detached" when someone was trying to kill you?

On the other hand, it was incredibly easily to "detach" himself from listening as Smythe-Wellington began lecturing—all class long, on the subject of emotional discipline, until Harry, Ron, and most of the class were lulled into a stupor. It was easily the most boring class he had ever sat through since History of Magic with Professor Binns (even Hermione had dropped that course after fifth year.) Their eyes were drooping, and there were even a few stifled snores coming from the back of the room when Smythe-Wellington finally glanced at the clock.

"Well. It is now five minutes until the end of class, and I am dismayed to see how very few of you have even registered what I said—let alone put it to use. And when I teach, if a lesson fails to be grasped by students, there are consequences." Harry and the others blinked awake, startled, and Smythe-Wellington smirked. "Rest assured, ladies and gentlemen, I have been keeping track of who has paid attention. And based upon that, I am deducting seventy points from Slytherin, forty points from Hufflepuff, thirty points from Ravenclaw, and sixty points from Gryffindor." She looked directly at Harry when she finished.

Fortunately, the bell rang, and Hermione dragged Harry out the door before he could say anything that would dock them more points. "That wasn't fair!" he raged as they went down the hall. "Half the Slytherins were outright asleep!"

"Well, you almost were," Hermione said timidly.

Ron shook his head. "Harry's right; we didn't deserve that big a drop. And she looked right at him! I think she's got it in for him!"

Scooting between Ron and Harry, Hermione told them, "Haven't you noticed? Everything she does has a reason: the puzzles, the exercises, even the boring lectures. She's trying to get us to think like Aurors. That's what lots of us want, remember?"

Ron snorted. "Yeah, she's just trying to whip you ito shape, Harry. Must think you've got potential."

"Oh, that explains everything!" Harry laughed along with Ron, athough Hermione looked disapproving. Shaking off his indignance, Harry said, "Is Professor McGonagall teaching this hour? I need to report something."

Forgetting all about Smythe-Wellington and the lessons, Hermione sucked in her breath. "Another dream?"

He nodded. "Pretty mild, but it might be useful."

But to Harry's intense dismay, there was a class with Professor McGonagall, and he didn't know how to find Professor Dumbledore. So he dragged himself down to the Dungeons and knocked on the door of Snape's office.

"Enter." Harry did, and Snape bared his teeth at him. "Well, Potter, what catastrophe have you caused now?"

He was _not_ in the mood for this. "I'm reporting a dream, sir."

"Well?" Harry described it as quickly as possible, taking care to leave nothing out. Snape's face betrayed no reaction, but when Harry had finished, he said, "I suppose you've told your fan club?"

"Ron and Hermione know I had one, but not what was in it, if that's what you mean," Harry growled. _Quidditch_ _practice two days this week, DA on Thursday, Remus gets back Friday…_

Snape sneered at him. "You will continue practicing and report this evening. Now leave."

Harry didn't have to be told twice.

* * *

 

With Remus gone, Wednesday was just as bad, and Thursday was worse. Smythe-Wellington was absolutely beastly, and having her every day was a nightmare. And she _did_ seem to have it in for Harry. In Curse Defense, she gave them another round of those horrible drills that centered solely around how to draw one's wand, and paid particular attention to everything Harry did wrong. Malfoy she simply docked points from and gave detention, but it was Harry who once again had to do the bloody thing over and over in front of everyone until he thought his arm would fall off and he was so livid that two windows spontaneously shattered.

For that, he got detention.

He never would have imagined dreading anything as much as Occlumency with Snape, but after half an hour of getting his brain peeled apart in the dungeons, he had to trudge back upstairs to Smythe-Wellington's office, and found himself almost wishing the Occlumency had lasted longer.

Smythe-Wellington's office looked like a small library; the walls were simply bookshelves. Harry could see no sign that the room was occupied by a renowned Auror: no medals, awards, or commemorations of any kind, although Hermione would probably love an office like this.

"Don't hover in the doorway, Potter, come in," said a terse voice from a figure bent over some essays. Harry sighed to himself and obeyed. Smythe-Wellington put down her quill and folded her hands on the massive desk, watching him with critical eyes. "Do you know why you are here?"

Harry met her gaze coldly. "To serve detention."

One side of her mouth twitched. "And the reason you were given detention?"

"Because I broke a window."

She let out a snort of quiet laughter. "False ignorance is neither clever nor becoming, Mr. Potter. Try again."

His jaw was clenched so tight he thought his teeth might break. "Because I lost my temper."

She raised one eyebrow. "And?"

"And…" _And what? Enough with the bloody mind games!_ "I don't know."

With an air of faint disbelief, Smythe-Wellington said, "You don't know?"

"No," he ground out.

Harry's blood was boiling—and now, so was the tea in the cup on Professor Smythe-Wellington's desk. She watched it emit great puffs of steam and bubble like a hot spring for a moment, then said softly, "You are an immensely powerful wizard, Mr. Potter."

It was the first thing Harry had heard from her that even remotely resembled a compliment. He blinked in surprise.

"Sit," she said. He did. She steepled her fingers and told him, "You are not here merely because of your temper. Manifestations such as these," she indicated the still-steaming teacup, "are indicative of two characteristics: strong innate magical talent—power in its rawest form—and dangerous lack of emotional control. You will find that unless you learn to check the latter, the former will go to waste."

Now having difficulty controlling the hot little fire of hope burning inside of him, Harry asked, "But does that mean…I'm strong enough to be an Auror?"

Smythe-Wellington snorted and waved a dismissive hand. "Strength of the magical variety has little to do with it. Where you now stand, Mr. Potter, no. You are not strong enough to be an Auror." Harry's heart sank—fast. Smythe-Wellington drove on, "You are powerful, yes, but so undisciplined as to make what talents you possess useless for real Defense. I despise waste, Mr. Potter, and at the moment, you are a waste of both talent and my time. _That_ is why you are in detention."

* * *

 

Could that day possibly have gone any worse? By the time Harry had finished the assorted menial tasks Smythe-Wellington had given him for detention (and the critiques from her that went along with them) he was convinced he would be better off if Voldemort just offed him and got it over with, because his life would never amount to anything.

He was dragging himself back to Gryffindor Tower when he saw Professor Lupin coming down the hall, presumably on his way back from the Shrieking Shack now that the full moon had waned. Remus looked especially haggard, but he smiled when he saw Harry. That alone brought a lump to Harry's throat.

"Hello, Harry. You're out late—I say, are you all right?" Remus quickened his steps in concern.

Harry swallowed thickly and forced a smile. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just…bad day."

Stopping and leaning casually against the corridor wall, Remus asked, "Do you want to talk?"

"No, that's okay," Harry muttered, embarrassed. "It's nothing, really." Remus looked skeptical; Harry's voice had cracked. "Really, I…just school stuff, and you're tired, and I've got…homework…" he babbled as he started shuffling away.

"All right," said Remus. "If you're sure. But if you change your mind, I'll be in my office for the next few hours."

Harry nodded weakly and hurried away. But when he got back to the common room, Ron and Hermione pounced on him. "What happened in detention?" Ron demanded. "She didn't use any dodgy quills or anything, did she?"

"I can't imagine she'd use methods like Umbridge," said Hermione.

"She's crazy! Crazy! There was no call for her harassing Harry like that—Malfoy was worse!" Ron retorted. "And what's a gunslinger?"

"Long story. Well, Harry? What happened?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged and fell into a chair. "She just had me rearranging books and told me I'm a waste of time and not good enough to be an Auror."

Both of their jaws dropped. "I can't believe it," Hermione said. "She wouldn't say that!"

Harry nodded bitterly. "She says I'm undisciplined and too emotional."

Ron threw up his hands. _"Everyone's_ emotional—except her and Snape, that is! Well matched pair, those two—"

" _Ronald!_ Don't take it to heart, Harry."

"I may as well just drop this class."

"Oh no!" Hermione protested. "You need it to get into the Auror Program!"

"What, did you miss that last bit?" Harry snapped. "I haven't got a prayer, according to Smythe-Wellington."

Hermione glared at him. "Don't get cross with me. Snape's been calling you every name in the book for years, and you knew not to believe him. Are you going to let Smythe-Wellington's criticism discourage you?"

"What?"

But now Ron was nodding. "She's got a point; who cares what that crazy old bat says? Don't give up."

"My failing the class won't get me into the Auror program," Harry grumbled.

Hermione grabbed his arm urgently. "Then _don't!_ Think about what she's teaching, Harry! Try to keep your feelings under control so things don't get to you so much. That's something you need for…the war…anyhow."

"I don't…know…how!" Harry ground out, furious and frustrated. "Everyone wants me to do this thing, but no one ever bothers to explain how it's done. I'm bloody sick of just being expected to know!"

"Hey! Don't yell at her, mate, she's just trying to help!" Ron said sharply.

"It can't be _that_ difficult to control your temper, Harry," Hermione added tightly.

"Oh, sod off!" Harry shot to his feet and headed for the portrait hole. "I've had enough lectures for one day!"

As he stormed out, he heard Hermione mutter, "I rest my case."

* * *

 

Twenty minutes later, he found himself standing in front of Professor Lupin's office with no idea how he'd gotten there. But he was more miserable and frustrated than ever, and even though he dreaded Lupin's gentle understanding (the lump in his throat was painful enough already) he wanted to see _someone_ who wouldn't make him feel inadequate. Funny how you could both want and fear something so much, he mused as he stood outside the office door—not to mention how knocking on a door could seem so difficult.

The door opened. Harry jumped. Remus was standing there with an amused look on his tired face. "I heard footsteps," he explained. "Come in." Harry did so quickly, with a rush of gratitude that forced him to keep his eyes on the floor. Why wouldn't his stupid throat stop being so tight? He could feel Remus's eyes on him as he sat down at a random desk. "I heard about your detention."

Harry buried his face in his arms, clenching his teeth painfully to keep from dissolving like a baby right there. But when Remus put a hand on his shoulder, he couldn't help the way his breath hitched. "You can do this, Harry. I know you can."

"She doesn't think so," Harry muttered.

"Then prove her wrong. I know how hard it is to master emotions at this age, even under normal circumstances. But you can do it."

Harry whispered, "I don't know how. I can't even do it for Occlumency."

"I've been thinking, actually, I may be able to help on that score. But it'll take patience, and real effort on your part."

Harry looked up at Remus, wide-eyed. " _You_ could teach me?"

Remus grinned. "Sorry, are you very averse to the idea?"

"Of course not!" The lump was finally going away, but sheer relief was making Harry's eyes sting. "I—to learn—to have lessons from someone who doesn't hate me—"

Laughing, Remus said, "Oh, Priscilla Wellington doesn't hate you. She merely fails to relate easily to anyone who is not an Auror—nor does she have much tolerance for rule-breaking, whatever the reasons behind it."

Harry grinned. "Then how do you explain Snape?"

"Well…" Remus chuckled, then shook his head. "Professor Snape hates everyone—himself most of all. But Professor Smythe-Wellington holds no malice for you. She's an important and loyal supporter for our side."

"Is she in the Order?" asked Harry in surprise.

"No, although I suspect she knows of us and could join if she wished. But she prefers to remain entirely inside the law, and heaven knows she's caused Lord Voldemort more than enough difficulty in her capacity as an Auror. She saw him kill her husband during the first war."

For the first time, Harry felt a flicker of affinity for the harsh Defense professor. "That's awful. Was her husband an Auror too?"

"Oh yes. Charles Wellington, one of the legends. It was one of the most tragic battles; they were quite a team, those two. Their Auror division was given false information that led to a trap; six were killed. Mad-Eye Moody led the reinforcements that prevented that fight from being a massacre." Remus sighed. "That was when we truly began to fear Lord Voldemort might destroy our side. It was just a year before your parents died; so many were murdered during those last months."

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly. "That must have been terrible."

Remus smiled sadly and nodded. "Now you see why Molly Weasley and others are so frightened for their families. So few came out of the first war intact." Then he shook his head. "Well, I was hoping you'd come because I wanted to cheer you up, and this isn't helping. I've got something to show you."

Harry gaped as Remus went to his desk and brought back Dumbledore's Pensieve. "What's that for?"

Remus set it down carefully in front of Harry. "We—Sirius and I—were planning to do this when you came to Grimmauld Place at the end of your fifth year." He gave Harry a sad smile. "It was his idea, actually, when we saw how that memory of Professor Snape's had upset you. Sirius thought you'd feel better seeing us in one of our, shall we say, prouder moments."

Harry stared at the Pensieve. "You mean…"

"This is one of my memories," Remus confirmed. "A very fond one. Sirius is in it, of course; he had planned to show it to you himself."

"Is Peter Pettigrew there?" Harry asked.

"Yes," said Remus. "Although, what you must remember is that the Peter you will see is not the one who betrayed us. This Peter's just a boy, and still a good one in my belief. Sirius was a bit less charitable—not that I blame him—but in my mind, we lost our Peter as surely as every other good person who died during the war."

"I suppose," said Harry, though he privately agreed with Sirius. Still, above all, he was bursting with curiosity. "May I look?"

"Dive in," said Remus. Harry did.

* * *

 

Harry found himself in the Gryffindor common room. Three boys were huddled together at a table, and he realized with a thrill of excitement that it was Sirius, Remus, and Wormtail. He didn't see his father, but assumed James Potter would be along shortly.

"Come _on,_ Remus!" Sirius was pleading, trying to tug away the book in Remus's hands.

"Do you two mind terribly? I'm trying to study!" Remus complained, taking it back.

"Doomsday's not for nine months," Sirius said dismissively. "And you'll never forgive yourself if you miss this momentous occasion."

"I doubt that. Besides, she'll say no again," Remus replied.

Wormtail was shaking his head. "No, no, this is it! I can feel it, I tell you! It has to be. If only to make him go away, she'll say yes."

"And if we ruin his chances, he'll never forgive us," Remus pointed out, finally closing the book and facing his friends. "So let him alone!"

"No!" Laughing, Sirius and Wormtail grabbed the protesting Remus and dragged him by the arms from his chair, propelling him down the stairs.

But Remus let himself be persuaded. "Where are they?"

"He's asking her when the Runes Club meeting is over," said Sirius.

Wormtail laughed. "I can't believe he joined that just to get close to a girl."

Sirius thumped him. "The lad's in love; lay off him. Here! Come on!" They hurried into a dead-ending corridor and eyed a closed door. "Besides, he's good at Ancient Runes. If he'd tried to join the Fortune Tellers Society, she'd have caught on."

Remus relaxed at last against the wall, grinning. "Remember when he got her to give him a Tarot reading?"

"Last year at Halloween, you mean? I know it took him three tries to get her to do it, but what'd she predict?" Wormtail screwed up his face in thought.

"Ah…he would live well, die a hero, and his name would be legend," Sirius said. "And she was rather disappointed; I think she'd hoped to see downfall and ruin or something."

"Shh!" Remus suddenly hissed, and they dove for cover in an empty classroom as a door across the hall opened.

Students began filtering out as Harry realized suddenly that his heart was pounding. A girl with long red hair, older and even prettier than she'd been in Snape's memory, came out first, absently tucking a parchment into her book bag. "Oy! Uh, I mean, Evans, is this yours?"

The girl paused as the other students wandered on down the hall. James Potter, his hair a little less messy and looking a lot less confident, hurried out after her, holding a Remembrall. "Oh," she shook her head and took it. "Ironic that I'd forget that. Thanks." She started to go, but the smoke turned red. "Oh dear."

James was fidgeting nervously. "Er…you did say you'd lend me that translation of—"

"Oh, right! Sorry!" Lily grabbed the parchment she'd been putting away and handed it to him. He didn't look at it, but she was too distracted to notice. "Sorry, with all the NEWT preparations, I'm forgetting everything else lately." She smiled, though it seemed more a general smile at her own absent-mindedness than at James, but he still blushed.

"Say, uh, Evans?" James asked quickly as she started to walk away.

"Hm?" She paused.

"I…ah…this weekend's the first Hogsmeade visit, isn't it—I mean, I know it is, and I…er…Iwantedtoknowifyouwantedtogo," he babbled out.

Lily blinked. "You mean with you?" James nodded, his face cherry red, and she sighed, though the idea didn't seem to revolt her as it had two years before. "Honestly, you never give up—"

"I mean it!" James protested. "I mean…I haven't _not_ meant it, well, I mean, it's not a joke like…well, it wasn't before, but…I mean it," he muttered, looking at the floor. Then he dared a glance at her face. "Please?"

Lily looked first confused, then surprised, then she too began to blush. "Well…all right then."

"What? I mean, you will?" James looked stunned—and delighted.

With a sheepish smile, Lily nodded. "Yes, I will."

 _THUD!_ "Oh…damn! Shh!" Voices from the nearby classroom and the noise of someone crashing into the door made Lily, James, and Harry jump. They gaped in astonishment to see Sirius Black sprawled half-in, half-out of the doorway across the hall, and a mortified Remus and Wormtail peering down at him. Sirius looked at James and Lily and groaned. "Oh no."

"I might have _known!_ " Lily exploded. "James Potter, why did I ever let myself think you'd grown up? Of all the juvenile, obnoxious, uncouth—"

She stormed off down the hall as James stared after her, looking devastated. He looked down at the parchment she'd given him, then at his friends. "James…" Remus whispered, aghast.

James' expression changed from anguish to utter betrayal, and he stepped back as Remus and Wormtail started toward him. Sirius was staring after Lily. "Well. That'll never do," he remarked, then jumped up and took off around the corner after her. "Evans! HEY! Evans, wait, you don't understa—OW! Please, just listen—AAH! All right, you've asked for it!"

From out of sight came a shriek of sheer outrage. "AAUUGH! SIRIUS BLACK, YOU BLOODY— _PUT ME DOWN!_ GET OFF! LEGGO!"

And so Sirius came stumbling back into the dead-ending corridor with a furiously-screaming Lily Evans slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Remus and Wormtail had to grab James as he lunged forward, murder in his eyes. "Black, I will _kill_ you for this—let her go, you bloody swine, haven't you bloody done enough already?!"

Between the two of them, Lily's and James' shouts caused such a racket that it was a wonder the entire school didn't turn out. As it was, Remus, Wormtail, and Sirius could not even begin to explain themselves over the din, and they could barely keep their respective charges restrained. Finally, Sirius managed to pull out his wand with one hand while keeping Lily aloft with the other, and took aim at James. _"Petrificus Totalis!"_

That cut off James' half of the cacophony, and then Sirius aimed over his shoulder at Lily. _"Silencio!_ Whew! Much better. I do apologize, Evans, under normal circumstances I wouldn't dream of manhandling a lady, but this is rather important." He deposited her carefully on her feet, but kept his wand trained on her. She glared at him, shaking with fury, her green eyes blazing. "Now. You're going to listen to our explanation whether you like it or not. Oh, Peter, Evans dropped her wand just round the corner, run and fetch it for her, would you?"

Wormtail scrambled to do so. "Here it is, and your bag, er," he set them down a safe distance from the livid redhead. "Sorry."

Sirius nodded thanks and turned calmly back to her. "All right, Evans, what it boils down to is this: what happened just now with James was _not_ a joke. He didn't know we were here…actually, the truth is, he entrusted his three best friends with the momentous news that he was asking a fair lady for the sublime honor of her company in Hogsmeade this Saturday…and said very poor friends decided to go spy on him. As you see, this social gaffe is the result."

Lily noticed for the first time the petrified James and frowned in confusion. Sirius went on, "So. If you want to hate us, please do, but don't blame James. None of this is his fault. Now, I shall return your wand, and you may hex us as you see fit—well, just hex me, all right? The whole ruddy disaster was my idea."

With that, Sirius took Lily's wand back from Wormtail and handed it to her. She took it, but pointed impatiently at her mouth. "Oh, sorry. _Finite._ "

Lily huffed out a sigh, but turned toward Remus, putting her hands on her hips. "Lupin?" she asked curtly.

"It's true," Remus said firmly. "It's not James' fault. Don't change your mind about going out with him just because we're stupid," he pleaded.

Now genuinely puzzled, Lily looked back at Sirius, who gravely dropped his own wand to the floor and squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of being painfully cursed. Instead, she pointed her wand at James and un-Petrified him. "YOU—" James started to lunge at Sirius, but then his mind caught up, and he stopped, staring at Lily.

She stared back, then looked at his friends, all of whom wore expressions of combined chagrin and hope. Slowly, almost unwillingly, her lips curved into a smile. Then a small giggle escaped, then a louder one. Then she began laughing outright. The boys stared at her. Shaking her head, she folded her arms and said, "All right, Potter, I'll go with you on Saturday—just so long as you promise to turn these three berks into mops so I don't catch them spying on us from behind rubbish bins."

James' mouth fell open. "Wha—really?!"

She nodded, still laughing. "Yes, really." Then she walked up to Remus, Wormtail, and Sirius and dealt each of them a playful slap (well, Sirius's was a bit harder than the others) before collecting her bag and walking down the hall, still laughing.

The four friends watched her go. "My God," Wormtail breathed. "Sirius…you _did_ it!"

Then they all piled onto each other, whooping and cheering, slapping hands, and Remus and Wormtail danced a jig around the hall singing, "She said yes! She said yes!" while James tackled Sirius and began beating his head against the wall.

* * *

 

Harry emerged from the Pensieve with a gasp. He looked at the grinning adult Remus, and they both began to laugh. Wiping his eyes, Remus declared, "And the rest, as they say, is history."


	19. Dream On

Friday was a better day. To Harry's delight, Professor Lupin appeared in Specialized Defense to lecture about mental discipline—and it was far easier to listen to him than Smythe-Wellington. "The concept of mastering oneself and one's emotions can be found in many cultures. This does not mean simply eliminating feelings; no one wants to do that." Harry couldn't help smiling. "It is about preventing our feelings from getting in the way of making the right choices. In combat, mastering our fear or anger can be the difference between life and death."

Harry saw Smythe-Wellington watching him and quickly looked away. _Ron and Hermione were right. I'm not letting you scare me off._ He supposed he ought to say he was sorry for snapping at them the night before.

The practical exercise Professors Lupin and Smythe-Wellington gave them was a little less than successful. They assigned the class into two-student teams for some simple duels—which would have been fine if they'd been able to pick their own partners. But Harry found himself partnered with Blaise Zabini against a team of Malfoy and Neville, of all people.

The duel went exactly as predicted.

When it was their turn, Harry and Zabini went scowling at each other to the front of the room to meet Malfoy and Neville, who were also exchanging glares. "If I see any of you pointing wands at your partners, it will be fifty points from your House," said Smythe-Wellington. Harry dared a glance at Professor Lupin and got a faint grimace in return. "Wands ready. No spells are to be cast that cause lasting injury. Ready…" Harry took aim at Malfoy, Zabini at Neville. "Begin!"

 _Calm. Right._ Harry shot a Disarming Spell at Malfoy, who blocked it and threw a Jelly Legs Curse back. Zabini was firing off curses one after the other at Neville, who was impressively holding his own. Very impressively, in fact, Zabini and Malfoy were exchanging quick, confused glances. Harry thought proudly that maybe a few of _them_ should have joined the DA. But eventually, Neville went down, and then Harry was stuck fending off Malfoy while Zabini stood by and smirked.

"Mr. Zabini! Kindly participate!" Smythe-Wellington snapped.

"Yes, ma'am!" Zabini fired a spell at Malfoy—that put up a reflecting shield which resulted in Harry being hit by his own Stunner.

Fortunately, it was a glancing hit, and while Harry floated in a greenish haze for several moments, he didn't quite lose consciousness. It faded, and he found Professor Lupin kneeling over him as Smythe-Wellington berated Malfoy and Zabini in the background. Harry had to grin, and Remus said cheerfully, "Well, your team won."

Harry grinned broader.

* * *

**_Hogwarts—Danger From Within?_ **

_Questions are being raised by concerned parents and numerous officials in the Ministry of Magic about the potential danger of the continued presence of the Boy-Who-Lived at Hogwarts School. "We sympathize with the boy's situation, but we must consider the safety of the rest of the student body," said the Minister of Magic at a meeting with the Hogwarts Board of Governors. "It may be necessary to remove Potter from Hogwarts for the duration of the war."_ _  
_ _The proposal still met with considerable opposition from witches and wizards who expressed concern for Potter's safety outside of the school. "This would be a terrible overreaction to the Quidditch attack. Obviously the Boy-Who-Lived was not the only target, nor will his absence guarantee the school's safety," said Madam Amelia Bones. "We cannot consider expelling an innocent student out of hysteria."  
_ _Proponents of the measure argue that the move would be considered a 'temporary suspension,' during which time young Potter would have the choice of seeking private tutoring or resuming at Hogwarts when the danger is deemed to have passed. "I don't think it's extreme at all," said Minister Fudge. "How many more innocent students will be hurt the next time You-Know-Who's people invade Hogwarts looking for Potter?"_

Harry yawned as he folded up the paper. "Can't say I'm surprised."

"He really does have it in for you," Ron muttered before taking a bite of toast.

"He blames me for all this," said Harry. "For Voldemort coming back." At Ron and Hermione's frowns, he explained, "Percy told me."

Ginny paused from feeding bacon to Bastet and stared at them. "Is that why he didn't tell Fudge about…" she raised her eyebrows.

Harry nodded, feeling a pang of regret imagining their faces if they knew what Percy had _really_ done. But he'd given his word, and for once, Percy was dead right about the consequences if anyone found out. "Yeah, and we'd better not mention it. Percy would be in serous trouble for withholding information like that." They all nodded gravely, and Harry yawned again.

"You look awfully tired, mate, are you sleeping all right?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "Not really, but there haven't been any dreams for almost a week."

"Do you think you're getting better?" asked Hermione.

Pushing away his half-eaten porridge, Harry frowned. "I don't know. Maybe Voldemort's just being quiet lately. I don't think my mind's any clearer. Professor Lupin's going to start helping with that."

"That's nice of him," said Hermione. "He uses a lot of that disciplining for his…condition. Mental calm all the time makes full moons easier to get through."

"That must be how he's so cool with Snape," Ron whispered, and they all laughed.

The bell rang, and Neville came to join them for the walk to class. "We're doing more teamwork in Professor Lupin's class today."

"I just hope he doesn't carry on Smythe-Wellington's spirit of inter-House partnerships," Harry groaned, picking up his book bag.

"Hey, your team won on Friday!"

"True, but I still got ten points off for not hexing you!" Harry laughed, and stood up. Then the world tilted and turned green. "Ah—"

"Whoa! Harry!" Ron and Neville grabbed and steadied him. "What's the matter?"

Harry sat heavily back down, and the dizzy spell passed as quickly as it had come. "I…think I just stood up too fast."

Hermione and Ginny had joined them, wearing identical worried expressions. "Are you sure? Should we get a professor?" Hermione offered.

Slowly, Harry got up again, ignoring the glances being cast in his direction. This time his vision was clear. He took a deep breath. "No, it's gone."

"Didn't _see_ anything?" Ron muttered at him.

"Nothing." Harry rubbed his eyes.

Hermione glanced at the table and Harry's picked-at food. "Maybe you should eat a little bit more—"

 _"Hermione!_ " Harry and Ron chorused.

She raised her hands in protest. "Sorry! I just don't want you to faint in class!"

Harry sighed. "I'm fine, just a little tired—I promise, if it happens again, I'll talk to someone," he told her placatingly. Ron visibly stifled a laugh, but smoothly ushered Hermione off to Defense class while Harry and Neville trailed sniggering behind.

In class, to Harry's relief, they learned team defensive maneuvers like the Reflecting Shield Zabini had used on Malfoy against Harry the previous week. For the time being, Professor Lupin told them, they would be allowed to choose their own teams. "But eventually, I'll be pairing you off myself, and your entire mark for those exercises will be how well you back your partner—no matter who it is." Remus didn't look directly at Harry and Neville, but he smiled in a way that made them chuckle sheepishly.

That class was fun; Harry and Neville partnered against Ron and Hermione, and the match was fairly even. Harry didn't even mind so much when he and Neville lost (Ron and Hermione had ganged up on Harry before finishing off Neville, laughing all the way.) Professor Lupin gave Gryffindor ten points for how well their two teams worked together.

After class, he held Harry back. "Shall we start working on discipline today?"

"I'd like to," Harry said eagerly.

"All right," said Remus with a smile. "Report for yet another 'detention' this evening."

Harry giggled, but asked, "What about Occlumency?"

"I'll speak to Professor Snape; this may be just as important in the long run."

"Thank you, Professor," said Harry with such feeling that Remus laughed. "How is Care of Magical Creatures coming?"

"I think Daisy's beginning to like me."

Remus laughed harder.

* * *

 

As predicted by all concerned, Professor Snape was all too happy to relinquish Harry for the evening to Professor Lupin's instruction, so it was with a much lighter heart that Harry said goodbye to his friends after dinner. Remus was waiting for him in his office. "I warned you this would take some effort. Complicated spells like the Patronus come easily to you, but what you're trying to master now is far less controllable than your own magic."

Harry joined him by the fire. "If you could do it, I can. I have to, don't I?"

Remus smiled. "I know you can do it, or I wouldn't suggest it. Now, what you're learning to do is find a way to detach yourself from emotional responses. This does not mean losing your emotions, Harry, only limiting their power over you. This will aid you in not panicking if you find yourself in serious danger, and not being provoked to anger when certain people try to goad you." He gave Harry a knowing look, and Harry felt himself blush. "Obviously, the latter is particularly important in your case."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "It'd be nice if Snape couldn't get to me so easily."

" _Professor_ Snape, Harry. Just remember, it is up to you to prevent him," said Remus. "Are you ready?" Harry nodded. "All right. What you're going to start learning are ways of calming yourself. It'll seem easy now because you are calm already, but in time you will automatically draw on these methods when you become agitated. Can you try that from now on?"

"Yes," said Harry, feeling a little nervous. Would he be able to gain that control over his emotions? The only time he had ever felt untouchable had been that first week of summer at Privet Drive—and he didn't want that hollow feeling to come back again.

But Remus said, "Right, then. What you're just going to do now is breathe." Harry blinked at him, and he laughed. "I'm serious! Go on. Close your eyes." A little giggle escaped Harry, but he obeyed. "Now breathe, deep and slow. In through your nose, out through your mouth." It felt a little odd at first, but Harry forced himself to keep doing it so he could pay attention to Lupin's soft voice. "Now what you are searching for is a place where you can evade emotional urges. It's deep inside you, your center, your grounding point. When you touch it, no matter how upset you are, you will orient yourself and calm again."

"I don't understand," Harry said, looking at him.

"It takes practice. It's not like a Patronus—a specific thought is not enough, although some people do envision their center as a place, somewhere very peaceful. Not emotional or powerful. Just calm." Remus regarded Harry. "Close your eyes again. Can you find a place?"

Harry thought for a moment, his mind going instantly to his mother's arms in the Pillar chamber. "There was…a place. It's a memory, actually, but Sn—Professor Snape says it has too much power over me."

"Hmm. He's probably right; you don't want to use specific memories as blocks in Occlumency. They can be used as stepping stones further into your mind. Try to imagine a neutral place, one that looks peaceful to you without being closely connected to your memories or feelings," Remus said.

Harry closed his eyes obediently, thinking of something peaceful, and finally settling on a quiet clearing in the woods, with the ground nice and grassy. Then it reminded him too much of the Dark Forest, so he imagined bright blue sky through the trees and sunlight streaming down. "All right…I think I have it."

"Good," said Remus. "Now, anytime you start to become upset or afraid, try to find that place. Remember to breathe, that's important. It's a place where no one can reach you. Even if you're, say, standing in Potions getting grief from a certain professor who shall remain nameless," (Harry sniggered) "inside, you will be in that center, where he and others can't reach you. Let it be your escape inside yourself."

Harry opened his eyes. "How will that help me in Occlumency?"

"You have used specific memories to block him before, haven't you?" Remus said pointedly. "Now use your center instead. Concentrate on it when he attacks."

Harry nodded. Perhaps…it just might work! "I think…this will help. Thanks."

"Don't mention it. And before you go to bed, be sure and sit for a few minutes and do what we've just done. Breathe as I showed you, and find your center. Use that to clear your mind before sleeping." Remus smiled. "Speaking of which, have you had any more visions?"

"Not since last week," Harry said. "In fact, I can't remember much in the way of dreams at all."

* * *

 

Remus's centering technique did seem to work. It was amazing how easy it was to take seriously when it was taught by someone who didn't treat Harry like a bloody punching bag! Harry dutifully practiced every night before going to bed, and found that it even seemed to stay with him in his sleep. Although the odd thing was that when he saw his forest hideaway in his dreams, it was always nighttime.

Even though he was feeling rather tired lately, Harry felt a little better about life after starting the lessons. During their next D.A. meeting, Harry took the lead once more, and they worked in groups practicing the reflecting shields and group defense spells they'd started in Defense that week, and then the First Aid Spells they'd begun learning in Charms.

"After all, it seems unlikely we'll come out of a duel with Death Eaters unscathed!" Hermione observed.

Everyone laughed, and they went to work on the dummies that Harry had persuaded Professor Flitwick to let them borrow. Harry and Ginny were the first to get the Resuscitating Spells down (well, aside from Hermione) and were soon grouped with Ron and Neville gleefully performing a spontaneous melodrama of Resuscitating their dummy who had befallen one of the various gruesome deaths that Harry and Ron used to dream up for Divination. By the time they were done, the entire club was convulsed with laughter.

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is us, the evil and highly-subversive Dumbledore's Army!" sobbed Justin, slapping the floor. "Reviving wizards who have had the misfortune to be trampled by herds of randy hippogriffs!"

"Or fell off the Astronomy Tower during a mad snog!" cried Dean.

"What'll Fudge make of it?" laughed Neville. "Us doing First Aid Spells?"

"Aiding fugitives from justice, of course!" said Ernie, without seeing the look on Harry's face.

"Er…or storming the Ministry and wrapping people in conjured bandages!" said Ron quickly. Harry had to laugh at the image.

"Yes, we're dangerous!"

"We're fearless!"

"We're eeeeevil! Enemies of incompetent ministers everywhere!"

* * *

 

Later that week, Harry went with Ron, and Hermione to visit Fred in the hospital wing. George was still staying with him, refusing point-blank to be pried out of the hospital wing until Fred was released, and the rest of the Weasleys visited nearly every day. Once Fred got to the point of complaining about boredom and nagging Madam Pomfrey to let him out, the visits became a little less tense for everyone.

Most of the Weasley siblings were comfortably spread around the room when Harry, Ron, and Hermione arrived. Fred, George, and Percy were sitting on Fred's bed, playing cards and mulling over inventory reports from Lee in Diagon Alley at the same time. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Charlie were in the far corner of the room, quietly conversing. Bill and Ginny were sitting on the bed next to Fred's with Lupin's fifth year Defense textbook open next to them. She was in his lap and appeared to have dozed off while showing him the OWL subjects they were working on. He shifted her weight so that he could wave at Hermione, Ron, and Harry. As they shook hands, Ginny awoke.

"Oh, Bill! I didn't mean to fall asleep. You must have lost all the feeling in your legs by now."

Bill laughed out loud. "You're not that big yet, love." He scooped her into his arms.

Charlie stepped away from his parents, and held out his arms. "Just pass her over here, Bill."

That odd request set off an explosion of activity that had Harry and Hermione jumping in surprise. Parchments, quills, and playing cards went flying in every direction as Fred, George, and Percy dove off the bed and into the center of the room between Bill and Charlie. "Excellent! Ginny-ball!"

Ron whooped and ran to join the group without missing a beat. As Hermione and Harry watched in amazement, they began chanting, "Block that shot! Block that shot!"

Ginny shrieked and grabbed Bill's neck in a strangle hold. "No! Mum, Dad, make them stop!"

Mrs. Weasley managed to sputter out, "Oh, for pity's sake, boys—"

"That's enough!" Mr. Weasley's voice, surprisingly stern, quieted the group. With all eyes upon him, Arthur Weasley broke into a boyish grin. "Ginny-ball is an _outdoor_ game!"

The entire Weasley clan exploded in laughter at the look of outrage Ginny turned on her father. Bill set Ginny on her feet and fell to the floor himself, laughing helplessly.

Hermione's face had a look of horror on it. "Ginny, they didn't really…?"

Ginny looked around at her hysterical brothers. "Oh, yes, Hermione…they did."

Ron and George came up from the where they'd been rolling on the floor, laughing. "Come on," yelled Fred. "Ginny-ball is a great game! Oooh…" he rubbed his ribs and grimaced, but still laughed as he sat back on his bed.

"Yeah," echoed George, plunking himself down next to Fred. "We didn't drop you _that_ often, Gin-gin!"

Hermione shook her head. "How _did_ you survive growing up with six older brothers?"

Bill put a hand gingerly to his still tender neck. "By being just as tough as the rest of us." That started the laughter up again, and Harry and Hermione joined in. Ginny tried for a moment longer to maintain her air of wounded dignity, then she too, burst out laughing.

Madam Pomfrey, brought running by all the commotion, shook her head at them and muttered, "I _cannot_ take much more of this."

True to her word, she released Fred at last that evening, and there was much rejoicing—not just from the living either! Peeves happened to be in the corridor when the Weasleys departed as a group (he'd taken to spending quite a lot of time near the hospital wing) and swooped down on the twins. "Hooray! Free! Free at last! What would we have done without you! My ickle Wheezies! My beloved beasties! Worried old Peevsie sick, you did!"

To the astonishment of everyone, he seized Fred by the ears and began planting big, wet, smacking kisses all over his face. Fred let out a yowl of horror and dove for cover, scrambling to get away as Peeves swept after the two of them, uttering loud declarations of adoration that echoed down the corridors.

Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys looked at each other in amusement. From the hospital wing doorway, Madam Pomfrey observed, "And all is right with the world."

* * *

 

Indeed it was: the Quidditch teams had been given permission to start practicing again, and the make-up match against Hufflepuff was rescheduled for late November. With tension building as the wizarding world awaited news of Voldemort, everyone at Hogwarts seemed to seize on the game as a distraction, and so excitement ran as high as if it were the Quidditch Cup final and not the first game of the season.

But, as luck would have it, Harry's dizzy spells had returned.

This time, they were different. Instead of simple disorientation, Harry saw green light, and the world seemed to fade away for a moment. It never lasted long, but it was highly unsettling.

None of the teachers in the Order could shed any light on it. "Perhaps this is a sign that you are beginning to successfully block Lord Voldemort, Harry," said Dumbledore during an impromptu meeting in his office after Harry had faded out in Charms. "Ah, Severus," he said as Snape came in. "Have you noticed any progress in Occlumency recently?"

"Yes," said Snape, in a tone that made Harry think he loathed acknowledging it. As Remus entered the office, Snape scowled but admitted grudgingly, "Lupin's centering instructions appear to have had an impact."

"I don't have to use my wand anymore," Harry said proudly, looking at Remus. "Well, not most of the time, anyway."

Remus smiled broadly. "Excellent, Harry!"

"So what's this light he keeps seeing?" Snape asked, obviously wanting to get off the subject of praising Harry.

"Maybe Lord Voldemort is trying and failing to penetrate Harry's mind," said Dumbledore, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

Harry frowned, watching Fawkes preening on his perch. "Then what happened before when I was dizzy? I couldn't block him then."

"Our Miss Granger offered the theory that Voldemort was using the dizziness to prevent you from seeing his preparations for the attack on Hogwarts, and to keep you immobilized while it was carried out," Dumbledore said.

Harry grimaced. "It worked, then."

Remus looked troubled. "But why would he waste energy attacking Harry's mind during the strike when he needed to hold the wards open? His Death Eaters might have escaped if he'd given his concentration to that fully."

"The Dark Lord can't fear Potter that much," Snape said, in a scornful tone to hide the fact that he was agreeing with Lupin.

Dumbledore popped a sherbet lemon in his mouth. "I think it possible that his attack on Harry may have had greater motives behind it."

"How _did_ he bring down the wards?" Harry asked.

"I believe Voldemort managed to enter the school underground through the Chamber of Secrets," said Dumbledore. "Our protections are most compromised there. Salazar Slytherin left a means for his heir to drop the wards—yet this is what puzzles me. Voldemort would have had to venture further into the grounds than he did, yet our investigations have found that he came no farther than the Chamber."

"None of the Death Eaters went with him? Perhaps some of them augmented the spell from further inside," suggested Remus.

"The Death Eaters he sent to attack the Quidditch stadium were new initiates, of limited power and use to him. I suspect he intended to abandon them all along."

"What about Malfoy or Lestrange?" said Snape.

"Neither of them possess the power needed to serve as a conduit for Voldemort in a spell strong enough to bring down the Hogwarts wards," said Dumbledore. "It would require a sorcerer of Voldemort's strength to deliver such power." Then he looked at Harry. "And this is what puzzles me."

Out of nervous habit, Harry had been avoiding Dumbledore's eyes, but now he forgot and looked up in astonishment. Dumbledore in turn focused just beyond Harry's shoulder, as usual. "Me?" Harry blurted. "But how…"

"I suspect your dizziness was the result of Lord Voldemort entering your mind and using your own power to probe for weaknesses in the wards, and during the attack, to bring them down while he remained in a position to escape cleanly," Dumbledore told him gently. "You are the only wizard in the world whose power equals his, Harry. The only one capable of being of use to him in that fashion. Perhaps he is doing this in the hope of countering the protection of the Pillar of Storgé."

"That would require a very strong magical bond," said Remus. "Could his scar alone be the cause?"

Snape made a disgusted sound. "The torch. The green flame torch. He said it would bind them."

"That is my suspicion," said Dumbledore. "And there may be a means of testing it. Harry…I would like you to look at me."

Harry swallowed, not quite meeting his eyes. "You think he'll try to possess me?"

"Most likely, if we maintain eye contact for any length of time. He fears what I might confide in you. But try to Occlude your mind. If it is only your scar that connects him to you, he may not be aware of my presence with you. With the torch, he would have the means of tracking on your comings and goings to a much greater extent."

Remus and Snape both slowly took their wands out, looking very apprehensive. Harry said, "But…what if I can't? What if I can't keep him out?"

"We will be here. Don't be afraid," Dumbledore said softly. "Look at me. We will see if Tom shows his hand."

Trembling, Harry concentrated, breathing slowly despite his pounding heart and seeking his center. He had to be calm if he was going to keep Voldemort out, especially considering how Voldemort always reacted to his looking at Dumbledore. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet Dumbledore's directly. It had been a long time since he'd done so, and he'd forgotten how gentle and kind the Headmaster's eyes were. It was—but suddenly, he hated them. He felt his face flush, and a powerful desire to strike the man, to hurt him—

"Close your mind, Harry!"

No, he would not, Dumbledore was wrong, the boy was _his!_ Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force out the foreign thoughts and feelings. _Ground, center, find the forest…breathe…push him out…_

Harry's scar stabbed with pain. He would fail…Dumbledore…they would all fail…the boy was not strong enough… _Think! Breathe…center…the clearing…calm…get away—oh!_

Then Harry's scar burst open, and he only had time to gasp out, "No…" before the red-eyed creature's coils surged up from somewhere inside his head and wrapped themselves around him, crushing him.

 _"You cannot stop me, Dumbledore,_ " the creature hissed as Harry's mind screamed in agony. _"The boy is mine!"_

"Harry! Fight him!"

_"Destroy him if you wish your school to survive…or I will destroy all your children…is this one worth all their lives?"_

"Harry!"

_Remus_ _…help me…can't breathe…_

_"I will destroy all of you, Dumbledore, your school, your students, and the traitor!_ "

From the blinding haze of pain, Harry heard a shout. _"Legilimens!"_

Then images began to roll past his mind's eye, vivid to him because he couldn't see beyond the creature's coils, and the Pillar room rose up from his memory. Harry plunged toward it as a refuge, seeking the shelter of his mother's arms…safety…love…

The coils loosened, and Harry fell into Professor Lupin's arms, shivering helplessly. "Harry, my God…"

"Cold," Harry gasped, trying to burrow into the shabby robes, and Remus pulled him to the fireside, sitting him almost directly in the hearth and wrapping Harry in his cloak. "Sorry," he mumbled, his teeth chattering. "Couldn't…block…"

"Ssh, it's all right, Harry," said Dumbledore from behind him as Remus vigorously rubbed his back. Fawkes flew down to Harry's side and began to sing, very softly. Harry felt the cold melt away. "Better?"

"Yes."

"Forgive me, Harry, I fear that was a foolish decision on my part. The green flame torch has given Voldemort a far stronger hold on your mind than any of us anticipated," Dumbledore sighed.

"'Sokay," Harry muttered, though he wondered why Dumbledore had thought he'd have any more success without the green flame torch than with it. It wasn't as if he'd ever had much luck preventing Voldemort from possessing him.

Remus kept rubbing his shoulders, looking stricken. "Albus, we have to do something. If this happens in public…"

"I know, Remus, believe me, the possibility of such an event occupies my mind constantly. Percy Weasley may have only bought us time."

* * *

 

At the first chance he got, Harry told Ron and Hermione about what had happened in Professor Dumbledore's office—and what they were all beginning to fear might happen. "I'm getting better at Occlumency, but I can't stop him from possessing me. If it happens in public, the whole world will find out!"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione moaned. "This is awful!"

"Did it hurt?" Ron asked solemnly.

Harry nodded. "Each time, I think this time I'm going to die. I can't see or breathe." He swallowed hard. "He could use my body to attack someone, and I couldn't stop him. He could hurt you." He leaned back against the tree they were sitting under near the lake and closed his eyes. "Sorry. I'm always tired lately."

"Don't blame you, mate," said Ron. "Have you been dreaming?"

Harry shook his head. "I just keep seeing green. It's odd."

"Green," Hermione mused. "Like a curse?"

"No, it's like a…light. Or a haze. I'm not sure. But it doesn't feel like a vision."

"Hm. Maybe Voldemort's taken to swimming in pond scum," said Ron, and they all groaned.

"Still," said Hermione, "there must be something we can do. Remus was right, if Fudge and his lackeys found out…"

"I'm dead," Harry finished. They both winced. "Percy told me Fudge would go that far."

"Why the blazes is Percy still working for him!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione grinned, stretching out on the grass. "Think, Ron. Remember why Fudge hired Percy in the first place? Let's just say Percy probably _is_ still spying…"

Ron's mouth fell open, and Harry nodded. "Just for our side now. He spent a lot of time talking to Dumbledore while he was here visiting the twins." Then he sighed. "But Dumbledore said last night Percy may only have bought us time."

"All the same, remind me to hug him next time I see him."

"Do you think he'll be able to warn us if Fudge makes another move against you?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know. Let's hope so," said Harry. He yawned heavily. He'd slept all night long without any real dreams except the green haze; why was he so tired?

Ron and Hermione were watching him. "Maybe you should take a nap during lunch," said Ron.

"But you need to eat too," said Hermione. "I'll steal you some sandwiches and bring them up before Transfiguration."

Harry grinned, "Yes, Mum and Dad."

"Oy! We've got practice tomorrow!" Ron said defensively. "I want you in top form!"

"Aye-aye, Captain!"

But he did take their advice.

* * *

 

"Harry? Harry, wake up, there's been an attack!" He woke from more green haze, feeling less rested than ever, to Hermione shaking him. "Did you see anything?"

Harry shook his head, rubbing his eyes. "Nothing at all," he said as he got up. "Ooh," he sat down again.

"All right, mate?" asked Ron. He was holding a plate of sandwiches.

"Here," said Hermione, thrusting one at him. "Eat up. Everyone's going to be pestering you."

Harry obediently took a bite. "What'd they hit?" he asked around a mouthful of bread and cheese.

"The University of Edinburgh and the American Capitol again. It was almost simultaneous, and they stole some things being studied," Hermione told him.

"Anyone killed?" he asked quietly, dreading the answer.

Ron nodded grimly. "We don't know details yet, but everyone's really worried. They say two buildings at Edinburgh got completely blown up."

"Probably to hide what they'd taken," said Hermione. "Eat up, Harry!"

With an effort, Harry finished his sandwich, but they made him eat a seond. "People are already wanting to know if you knew anything," Ron warned.

Harry sighed, feeling less of an appetite than ever. "Not this time."

"That's not your fault; you're not supposed to be having visions from Voldemort in the first place," huffed Hermione. "And anyone who complains about it is an idiot."

"Do we still have class?" Harry asked, finishing the second sandwich.

"Yes, although how much will get accomplished remains to be seen," Hermione said grimly. Feeling equally grim, Harry headed out of the dormitory with them.

In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall was most definitely distracted. She assigned them to practice the spells they'd been doing last class, then sat at her desk as owls came and went in a steady stream, snatching and scanning their letters and writing hasty responses. She didn't even notice that the students were even less effectual than usual at turning quills into flowers.

Class was halfway over, and Ron had just managed to turn their quill into an earthworm, when the door opened. Professor McGonagall looked up, and all the students turned around in their desks. In the doorway was a tall wizard that none of them recognized. He was an older man, with a well-receded hairline and neatly-trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, wearing a dark robe trimmed with green tartan. His keen black eyes took in the curious faces of the students before settling on Professor McGonagall, whose chin was resting on her hand as she regarded him.

Her lips curved into a faint smile, and she remarked sardonically, "Typical. Every witch or wizard I have ever met in Edinburgh has managed to owl me that they are well except for you."

The strange wizard replied blithely, "Forgive me, in that case I'll return to Edinburgh at once and send an owl from there to inform you that I am well."

Professor McGonagall let out a single snort of laughter and stood up, walking briskly toward the door. "Class dismissed," she said as she passed the desks without giving the students so much as a glance.

Everyone in the class stared after her, confusion written all over their faces. All except Hermione, that is; she was beaming. "What was _that_ all about?" demanded Ron.

Turning to them, Hermione said, "That man is a very well-known wizarding barrister from Edinburgh. He also does magical research at the University."

"So he came to report on the attack?" asked Neville from next to Harry.

"Among other things," said Hermione with a sly smile. "I'm astonished that we've been here so long and none of you know of him." At their blank stares, she finished triumphantly, "His name is McGonagall. Murdo McGonagall."

"McGonagall…" Ron's mouth fell open. "You mean…" he gaped at the door.

Hermione grinned and nodded. " _Mr._ McGonagall is Professor McGonagall's husband."

* * *

 

"Did _you_ know she was married?" Ron asked Harry when they went downstairs for dinner.

"Not me," Harry said.

"Me neither," said Neville. "I feel badly, like I shouldn't have assumed she wasn't."

"It's not as if she's told us much of her life story," protested Ron. "Other than what she told Umbridge during the 'inspections,' that is."

"But Hermione knew," said Neville.

"Hermione knows everything," said Harry dismissively. "I do wonder what he's doing here."

"Ask Hermione," chuckled Ron.

"Ask me what?" Hermione scampered down the stairs behind them, trailed by Ginny.

"What McGonagall's husband is doing here," said Harry. "None of us have ever seen him before."

"She usually goes to Edinburgh during the holidays," said Hermione. "But I heard him telling her his offices got destroyed during the attack. She introduced me. He seems nice enough."

"His offices?" Ron frowned. "I thought he was a barrister."

"He does lots of things," said Hermione. "He's very brilliant. A great mind in the wizarding world, from what I've read of his work."

"Sounds like Professor McGonagall's type," said Ron, earning a smack from both Hermione and Ginny.

"I think he's handsome," Ginny said archly.

"What! He's ancient!" Ron exclaimed. Harry privately agreed, but didn't want to risk the girls' wrath by saying so aloud. (At present, they were pummeling Ron with their notebooks.)

Harry and Neville trailed behind Ron and his assailants, and were just deeming it safe to catch up again when Harry began feeling light-headed. The staircase began to tilt, but it didn't have anything to do with the usual idiosyncrasies of Hogwarts. "Hey, Harry—Ron!" Neville yelled as Harry started to sway.

"Harry—what is it?" They all ran back up the steps as Harry bent over the banister.

"Just…dizzy…"

"Sit down," Hermione ordered, and he sank onto the stair with Ron on one side and Ginny on the other. His vision was blurry, and green was edging everything. The haze seemed to be closing in, blurring away the world.

"He's fading out! I'm getting help!" Footsteps thumped off down the stairs as the green fog carried Harry away.

* * *

 

He came round to find himself propped up against Ginny's shoulder, and Remus bending over him. "Harry? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, sitting up with their help.

Remus looked at Harry's eyes and felt his face. "You're a bit warm. Did you see anything?"

"Yeah," Harry smiled dryly. "Green."

Remus chuckled. "I see. Let's get you to the hospital wing."

"I think I'm all right now," Harry protested, but they all looked skeptical.

"All the same, I want Madam Pomfrey to check you out," said Remus firmly, and helped Harry to his feet.

Hermione was giving Remus a very intense look, and Harry glared at her. "What?"

"Nothing."

 _Likely story,_ he thought, but checked his temper in front of Remus and allowed himself to be ushered off to the hospital wing.

When they arrived, Madam Pomfrey poked and prodded Harry for an irritating length of time before concluding, "Above all else, Mr. Potter, you are over-tired."

"But I've been sleeping fine," Harry insisted.

"Hermione told me you are seeing this green light in your dreams?" Remus said pointedly. Harry nodded, confused, and the werewolf sat down, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hmm. That must be the key, but I can't imagine what it means."

"I believe it is time we found out," said Professor Dumbledore, coming into the hospital wing with Snape behind him. He patted Harry's hand without meeting his eyes. "Harry, would you permit us to see your dreams?"

Harry blinked. "Well…yes, I mean…how will you do that?"

Dumbledore gestured to Snape, who was holding his Pensieve. "While you sleep, it is possible to view what your mind sees."

Harry frowned, considering it; he wasn't certain he liked the idea of people poking around in his mind while he was unconscious. "Do you think you'll be able to see more than I can tell you about?" he asked, stalling.

Dumbledore nodded. "As is always true with a Pensieve, we will see all that surrounds your mind's eye, beyond what you carry with you back to wakefulness."

"It would help, Harry," Remus said.

Slowly, Harry nodded. "All right. What do I have to do?"

"Madam Pomfrey, a sleeping draught, please," said Dumbledore. Lupin and Snape set up screens around Harry's bed, while Harry sat there wondering if it was possible to feel any more self-conscious. He studied his hands until Madam Pomfrey returned with the potion. "Give me your hand, Harry." Dumbledore pressed Harry's palm against the Pensieve in a way that reminded him of the green flame torch. Fortunately, no blood was involved, or Harry's imagination might have run away with him. Dumbledore murmured an incantation that caused a little tingle to run from the top of Harry's head to the tips of his fingers, then released him.

Madam Pomfrey handed the little vial to Harry. "You'll sleep for about half an hour." Harry took it and nodded.

"Sweet dreams," Remus said teasingly, and Harry relaxed a little, smiling at him. He didn't need to be worried if Remus was there. He gulped down the contents of the vial, then lay back on the bed and let the green fog roll over him.

He floated in it for a time he couldn't measure, until someone's shaking brought him around. "Mr. Potter? Wake up now," said Madam Pomfrey.

Harry sat up and put on his glasses. At a bed next to his, still behind the screens, Dumbledore, Snape, and Lupin were crowded around the Pensieve, and when they looked at him, they were all frowning. "What did you see?" he asked.

Remus looked very worried. "Nothing. Did you see the green light?"

Puzzled, Harry nodded. "The whole time. Why didn't the Pensieve work?"

"Because," said Madam Pomfrey gravely. "You were not dreaming. I watched you closely the entire time; your eyes never moved."

"What!" Harry looked at the teachers for confirmation.

Remus nodded. "That explains why you've been so tired; good or bad, people _need_ to dream. Whatever this green light is, it's disrupting your regular sleep so you don't get truly rested."

"And so I don't have visions," Harry finished.

"Precisely," said Dumbledore. "Lord Voldemort's doing, I've no doubt."

"So what do I do if I can't really sleep?" Harry asked in despair. All that sleep and still being so tired…

"There are ways of inducing undisturbed sleep," said Dumbledore. "We shall have to place some additional wards around your dormitory."

Snape had been staring at Harry with that same perturbed expression he'd been wearing very often lately, but then he stood up. "I will get started, Headmaster."

"Thank you, Severus." Snape walked quickly back down the empty hospital wing and out the doors. Harry tried and failed to stifle a yawn, and Dumbledore smiled, his eyes on the stand next to the bed. "We'll make every effort to allow you to begin sleeping normally tonight, Harry."

Harry sighed. "That'd be nice."


	20. Deeper and Darker

Between the new wards and another sleeping draught, Harry got real rest over the next few nights. He was still plagued with "green spells," as Ron and the twins came to call them, outside of the dormitory, but inside, he slept free of green light or visions. He never wished for them to come back, even when the Department of Mysteries was attacked and three Unspeakables disappeared. As before, Voldemort's followers destroyed the places they raided to hide what had been taken.

On the other hand, with Voldemort cut off from Harry's mind at night, in the place of the old visions came garden-variety nightmares. Except that there was nothing garden-variety about Harry Potter's nightmares.

He woke more than half the dormitory more than once yelling in his sleep, then constantly had to convince Ron and Neville that it was ust an ordinary dream. Ron took to refusing to go to sleep himself until he was certain Harry would be able to, and once or twice, stayed up with Harry for hours. One night he raised such a racket screaming and flailing around that he woke to Ron and Neville's violent shaking and found half the population of Gryffindor House hovering in the doorway.

Hermione pushed to the head of the group and took a few steps further into the room. "Harry. You're in Gryffindor Tower, in the dormitory. Whatever you were dreaming, it's gone," she said in a firm voice that reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall.

Harry felt his muscles slowly beginning to relax and managed to fumble himself free of the bedclothes, blinking in the darkness. Neville soberly handed him his glasses. "Merlin's beard, Harry, you scratched me!"

"Sorry," Harry muttered, wishing he could jump out the window.

Ron paused from rubbing his jaw, where a new bruise was forming, and said, "All right now, mate?"

Harry nodded, hating the fact that he was still shaking. Bloody nightmares. He'd been dreaming of the Veil and… "Sorry," he muttered again.

Several of the students still crowded into the dormitory were begin to mutter amongst themselves, and Harry distinctly heard someone say, "Sirius." His blood turned to ice.

"What were you dreaming about?" Hermione said loudly. "You kept saying 'listen to me,it's serious.'"

Harry heard more than one person in the room suck in their breath, and forced himself to think. "Er, uh…I was…it was last year, I was trying to convince people Voldemort was back," several students flinched. "They wouldn't listen, even though…people were getting killed."

He dared a look around the darkened dormitory, lit only by a few lamps people had carried in. To his intense relief, most of the students seemed to have bought his story, and some even looked ashamed. "Harry," said Ginny quietly. "Should someone get Professor McGonagall?"

Harry hesitated, then shook his head. "No, not this time. Just an ordinary nightmare."

Someone muttered, "You call that ordinary!" then grunted after apparently getting an elbow in the ribs.

To his relief, his friends didn't press, but Hermione nodded briskly. "Right, then. All right, everyone, back to bed! Nothing to worry about!"

Ron eyed her as she shooed the rest of the girls out and grinned at Harry, "She reminds me of my Mum sometimes."

Harry forced a smile. "I noticed that too. I'll just go to the—"

"—bathroom," finished Ron, and got up to follow him. Harry sighed to himself and closed the door. "Sirius again?"

Harry nodded. "The Department of Mysteries. I can never pull him back in time." That wasn't quite the whole truth: in the dream, Sirius had cried out to Harry for help, and Harry had failed. Again and again. The same with Cedric and Uncle Vernon. They had all called to Harry for help, and he hadn't been strong enough, fast enough, smart enough to save them.

"You're sure these are just regular nightmares?"

"Yeah," he said, trying to get his heart to slow down. "Yeah, they're memories, not visions. I'm sure of it. And what with the extra wards…anyway, good thinking out there. Thanks for covering."

"Anytime, you know that. But you might want to talk to Remus about them anyway," Ron told him, sitting down on the edge of a bathtub. "Or maybe Dumbledore."

Harry let out a long, groaning sigh. He'd been doing that a lot lately. "Ron, I…I don't think this is anything that Dumbledore or Occlumency or…anything magical can deal with."

Ron came and sat down on the edge of one of the bathtubs. "What do you think it is then?"

Forcing himself to stop biting his lip, Harry leaned into over the sink and said tightly, "It's just…nightmares. About how…" he jammed his teeth back into his lip and ground out in a whisper, "it's my fault, Ron. My fault he died."

Ron sprang to his feet. "Don't you say that, mate! It was _not_ your fault," he hissed.

"You don't know!" Harry whispered back furiously. "It was just like Hermione warned me before we left—trying to be a hero, trying to save people! Voldemort counted on that, and now Sirius…now he's…" he shook his head, turning away. "Voldemort always lies, Ron. That's how I know this isn't any dream from him. These dreams…they're strange, but what they say…it's not a lie. It's the truth! I might as well have thrown him through that archway myself!"

"Harry, no! Sirius wouldn't want you to—"

"Of _course_ , he wouldn't," Harry shot back, hoping Ron wouldn't notice the tears prickling his eyes. "He just wanted-me-to-be-more-like-my-dad—oh damn!" His throat had closed up too much for words, so he began punching the sink as hard as he dared.

Ron watched in dismay, then sprang into action: he turned on the tap in the next sink to ice cold, and when it had half-filled with water, he bodily hauled Harry over to it and dunked his head in, managing to remove Harry's glasses at the last second. "That'll set you right, mate!"

"Blurgllellagll!" Harry sputtered in surprise as he was soaked from hair to ears in near-freezing water. "Mgfliggle! Blurgf! Pffbbtt! Aah! Ron, stop!" By the dint of flailing and yanking, he got his neck and shoulders out of Ron's grasp and scrambled away, only to slip and fall with a thud on the bathroom floor.

Ron stood over him with folded arms that made him look disturbingly like Hermione. "Better?" He tossed Harry a towel.

Harry scowled at him, then vigorously attempted to dry his hair. "Thanks," he said dryly. "Nothing like a little hypothermia to take my mind off things."

"Oh, stuff it," said Ron. "Had to distract you somehow. Feel better?" Well, if chattering teeth counted as better, Harry nodded. "Good. Then go to bed! If you fall asleep in Potions tomorrow, you're done for!"

"Yessir, oh-high-and-mighty Prefect!"

"The man makes the badge, mate, the man makes the badge!"

"Hey, Fred and George were right. You are taking this too seriously!" muttered Harry as he followed Ron back out the door. "I'll have to warn them to step up their joke testing on you!"

"Don't you dare!"

* * *

 

During Occlumency the week before the make-up Quidditch match, Snape was being oddly quiet and businesslike again. Which was a good thing, because the nightmares were leaving Harry constantly unsettled, and Snape kept dredging them up. "Potter, are you still holding lessons with Lupin?" he asked impatiently when Harry failed to block him.

"Yes," Harry replied.

Snape had known that, of course. "If you do not learn to detach yourself from distressing memories, you will be providing the Dark Lord with an open door into your mind."

"I'm _trying!_ "

Snape fixed him with a hard glare. "Judging by the amount of attention the Dark Lord is devoting to you, you had better do more than try. Now," he raised his wand again, but something suddenly clicked in Harry's mind.

"Professor, wait, I…" he frowned, thinking hard.

"What?" Snape did pause, to Harry's surprise.

"I…there's something, I'd forgotten." In truth, there were some things he'd tried very hard to forget until the nightmares had brought them back into his mind.

"Another vision?" asked Snape in an exasperated tone.

Harry shook his head. "No, it happened when Voldemort—"

"Potter!"

"Sorry, when the Dark Lord had me, back in June. It…" Why was his heart pounding like that? Feeling frustrated with the way his heart began to pound and his palms began to sweat at the mere memory, Harry took a deep breath, trying to center himself. "It was early," he said slowly. _Center. It can't hurt me now. It's just memory. Breathe._ It helped a little, but his hands still shook. "It was before…before you came, and I'd…forgotten," he said weakly. He didn't like remembering that night at all. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears in spite of all Lupin had taught him.

Snape's face had lost the disgruntled look. "Go on," he said quietly.

Harry swallowed thickly. "It may not be that important."

"I'll be the judge of that. What happened?"

His mouth was incredibly dry. "When he first asked me about the prophecy, he looked at me…I thought he was trying to get—I mean, I knew he was, trying to get into my head, I mean, and I was too sc—couldn't close my mind, so…I just started thinking about dragon's blood. Then he just went right into torturing me, as if he hadn't been able to find out about the prophecy," Harry said.

Now Snape simply looked baffled. "Dragon's blood?"

"I finished your summer essay the day it happened," Harry explained absently. "What I don't understand is what he did—I was so…I can't imagine I really blocked him. But he didn't…I don't know."

Snape was so perturbed he sat down on the edge of his desk, staring at the jars on the wall shelves. "While your emotions provide him access," he said slowly, "he also finds them highly repulsive. With torture as a more convenient alternative, and you entirely in his power, he may have chosen to forego attacking your mind."

"You persuaded him that I didn't know it pretty easily," added Harry. "Maybe he believed that from the beginning and just tortured me for fun."

"That does run with his taste in amusements," muttered Snape, not really speaking to Harry. "You've been face-to-face with him at his full power four times. Has he never made a concerted attempt at attacking your mind?"

"Well, there was the Department of Mysteries. He said he knew I was telling the truth about the prophecy to Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry said. "Other than that, aside from possessing me and sending me sham visions, no. And whatever it is he's done to make me stop dreaming."

Snape abruptly straightened. "Lower your wand, Potter. Call to mind the memory of the possession."

Harry froze. "Why?"

"It may explain why he does not hesitate to attack you in that fashion but has not yet made a serious effort at Legilimency against you."

Harry took a step back. He did _not_ want to relive that. Snape frowned at him, and he muttered, "Do you have to?"

"Potter…"

" _Sir?_ "

Snape sighed in annoyance. "We require answers, Potter. Now, do as I said."

"Fine," Harry sighed and lowered his wand. "Which one, the last, in Dumbledore's office?"

"No, the first, in the Department of Mysteries."

"Not that one!" Harry blurted desperately. The first time had been the worst for a variety of reasons.

"Potter, I do not have time for niceties!" Snape snapped. _"Legilimens!"_

And Harry was in the atrium, trapped in the coils of a creature with red eyes, blinded and dying, terrified, his heart and soul still reeling from the loss of Sirius only minutes earlier…he felt the creature use him, telling Dumbledore to kill him…he wanted to die, the pain… _Sirius…_

"NO!" Harry fought out of instinct, and without even raising his wand, but Snape suddenly staggered back.

A dark-haired man carried a limp form out of a dark tunnel into the starlight, then realized the boy in his arms was not breathing…cursing, he laid the thin figure on the ground and began rattling off spells, shaking and desperate…

"POTTER!" Harry stumbled backward. Snape was glaring at him. "What have I told you about—"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" Harry blurted, still trying to process what he'd seen in Snape's memory. He knew the spells Snape had been using; they'd been practicing them during this week's DA meeting. They were Resuscitating Spells. Shaken, he looked at Snape and whispered, "Did I…die?"

Snape made a very small movement, almost like a wince, before he snorted and replied, "Don't be melodramatic. Your pulse and respiration stopped for less than thirty seconds; I revived you and continued on our way."

"Oh. I…but why did my heart stop?"

"Effect of rushing your awakening from the Draught of Living Death," said Snape tightly. "I took it into account and was prepared for such an event."

Harry thought, _with Death Eaters and Voldemort on his tail every second_ , before he could stop himself. "Thank you," he blurted without meaning to.

It was difficult to say which of them was more shocked. Snape stared at him for a full minute, then evidently decided to ignore those two words altogether. "It appears that in possessing you, the Dark Lord has attempted to crush your mind to the point where you lose mental consciousness. But your emotions have driven him out."

"That's why it hurts so much?" Harry asked wearily.

"Yes. If your mind fails completely, your body will be his to control, but thus far it has not," said Snape.

"I guess these emotions are good for something after all," Harry couldn't help muttering.

Snape shot him a withering look. "The Dark Lord's recent activities indicate the time is fast approaching when he will stomach his dislike for your emotions in order to gain control of you. That barrier will not hold forever."

"Point taken," Harry sighed. "Though…I tried closing my mind when I felt him coming in Dumbledore's office, but it didn't even begin to work. It felt…different somehow. Different from Legilimency."

"It may require a different means of closing your mind," Snape said. "We shall have to examine it further." He glanced at the clock. "That is enough for tonight. Clear your mind before going to sleep."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and headed out the door. He was halfway up the stairs when he realized that by the end of the lesson, his conversation with Snape might almost have been called civil!

The realization made him laugh aloud, but then his vision blurred and became tinged with green. "Oh no." He sat down quickly, trying to will it to pass, but it didn't.

Over an hour later, Mr. Filch found Harry passed out on the stairs.

The next morning, the _Daily Prophet_ reported another breach in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione had given Rita Skeeter free license to report any news about Voldemort's attacks (if she had a real, reliable source,) and it was paying off: Voldemort had been seen in person in a room called the Death Chamber.

* * *

 

"Maybe we should just field Ginny," Harry told Ron miserably during practice. "We don't need a repeat of last game."

"Last game we got attacked, that wasn't your fault," said Andrew Kirke.

"Jack doesn't agree with you," Harry sighed. Jack Sloper still refused to look at him in the hallways.

"Jack needs someone to blame for Joe, and you're convenient," said Ginny. "Come on, Harry, buck up! I want to play Chaser!"

"If I have a green spell mid-game, we could lose!" Harry insisted. "I can't stop them, and we've only got three days until the match. They might even get worse."

Hermione was sitting close by, listening with the twins. She'd taken to coming to watch practice lately; Harry suspected it was beause of Ron, and found he was glad she'd made that gesture. Hermione knew how important this was to Ron, being captain this year. She scooted closer and said, "Perhaps we should try to find a way to prevent them."

"Such as?" Ron demanded eagerly.

"Well, we know these 'green spells' are coming from Voldemort—oh, stop that, you lot! And they're keeping Harry from really dreaming." She pulled out her NEWT Defense text. "That's some kind of magical attack on his mind."

"And?" asked Fred.

"So…" she leafed through the book. "We may be able to find a way to cut it off. Only for a short time, but it might last through the game." She looked up firmly. "We'll need to try some detection spells to see what it is, or at least what type of attack."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" demanded Vinny Watson. "Get to it!"

"What do I have to do?" Harry asked eagerly.

Hermione grimaced. "Let me knock you out for a minute." He gaped, and she explained, "Since it always happens when you're asleep."

"Uh…all right, then," said Harry. _Why is the whole world suddenly so keen to watch me sleep?_ "Right here?"

"If you're comfortable," she said tentatively. He nodded, and she ordered, "Sit back and relax, then. _Durmius!_ "

The world faded into green, but when he woke up, it was still there. "Bloody…hell…" Ron breathed.

Harry saw a curling, thick line of what looked like bright green smoke surrounding him, leading away into the distance. His friends and teammates were scooting fearfully away from it. "What is that?" gasped Seamus.

"That's what Voldemort's sent after Harry," said Hermione, not looking up from her book. "Don't be afraid; it's always been there. The spell just made it visible."

"Looks like a snake," said George.

"That makes sense," muttered Harry. Then they all jumped as Hermione slammed her book shut and waved the Revealing Spell away.

"I think I can do it."

"Do what?" the team chorused.

Hermione eyed Harry speculatively. "Block the spell temporarily. Cut the connection, as it were."

"How? A moving ward?" asked Ginny, reaching for the textbook.

"In a manner of speaking," said Hermione. "I'm going to make you an amulet."

* * *

 

Hermione and Ginny made protecting Harry for the duration of the game their special project. Most of the ingredients they needed could be obtained from the students' supply cupboard (and Harry and Ron didn't ask where they got the ones that couldn't.)

For the remainder of the week leading up to the game, green spells continued plaguing Harry, until none of his friends would let him go anywhere alone. "The last thing we need is you fading out in a hallway and one of the Slytherins finding you," Hermione told him when she insisted on walking with him back to Gryffindor Tower after he forgot a textbook.

"Any chance you can make this amulet permanent?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Not against Voldemort. The reason I think this one might hold for a few hours is that he's probably used to thinking big. An amulet's really very simple protection; it might throw his spell off for a while before he recognizes it and compensates."

"And then what happens?"

"It stops working," said Hermione with a shrug. "And you'll probably faint again."

"Oh. Lovely."

They refused to let Harry try the protection out or even see the amulet before Saturday. "We don't want the old bugger catching on ahead of time," Ginny told him at breakfast the day of the match.

"I wonder if we ought to be wasting a protection like this on a game," Hermione mused, patting the pouch she was carrying.

"What!" Ron looked wounded. "What do you mean 'wasting!'"

"Well…I know Quidditch is important to you, but this will only work once, maybe twice. We might want to save it—"

Harry shook his head, interrupting her. "I'm not going to let that red-eyed mutant skrewt ruin my life! I haven't played a full game in over a year, Hermione. Let me have this!"

Hermione sighed, but smiled at them. "I thought you'd say that. Have it your way. I'll give it to you as soon as you get to the pitch. In the mean time, _eat!_ "

Harry obediently shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth, but grinned. Nothing would spoil this game.

To ensure that nothing did, there were Aurors scattered around the grounds and stadium. Tonks waved at Harry and the others as they passed, and tugged open the top of her red robes to reveal a red Gryffindor Quidditch T-shirt underneath. "Good luck, you lot!" she whispered loudly.

As soon as they reached the locker rooms, Hermione pulled out the pouch. "You may feel a bit odd for a minute, depending on how strong the spell's hold is on you."

"Will it last the whole game?" Ron asked.

"Probably, but I'd catch the Snitch quick if I were you," Hermione warned. She opened the pouch and pulled out a knitted lanyard with a small gold disk engraved with runes and figures.

"Is that real gold?" Ron exclaimed.

Ginny nodded. "We had a beast of a time finding a place to soften it up for this."

"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?" Harry guessed slyly. Ginny grinned and nodded.

"Here we are," Hermione slipped the lanyard around Harry's neck. At once, it felt as though a hand had been holding him very tightly and then let go; he swayed. "All right?" she asked, steadying him.

Harry rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it's worked!"

Ron hugged Hermione gleefully. "You are a saint, Hermione Granger, a saint! I love you!" Then they both realized what he'd said, and turned scarlet simultaneously. Ginny jerked her head at Harry, and they slipped out ahead.

"Here," she said, tucking the amulet under his Quidditch robes.

"Thanks for all this," Harry said.

"Not at all; just be sure we win today!"

Ron came running to join them, and they met the rest of the team at the entrance. "The _Daily Prophet's_ here!" Dennis said excitedly.

Ginny frowned. "That's odd. What could they want?"

"Maybe to show that Hogwarts is back to normal," said Katie.

"The _Prophet_ interested in normal?" scoffed Ron. "No, sir. They're hoping something'll happen with Harry."

"You mean an attack, or that I'll just faint and fall off my broom?" asked Harry dryly.

"I'm sure either works for them," said Andrew.

Ron clapped his hands. "Enough of that! Ignore them; the only show we're giving this lot is how solidly we can whip Hufflepuff, so mount up."

Giggling, they obeyed, and swept out onto the field to the roar of the crowd. Harry's heart soared along with the rest of the broomsticks as the wind rushed past his face, giving him a feeling of freedom he hadn't experienced in a long time. "Ever imagine playing the Quidditch World Cup?" Ron asked him as they flew to the center.

Harry laughed. "When we went to see it, sure. But for now," he pointed to the huge _Weasley_ _is Our King_ banner. "I'll settle for this!"

Ron pumped his fist at the Gryffindor stands as they flew into place. "The players take their positions for the first game of the season!" Dean Thomas announced. "Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff!" Raucous cheers went up from the stands as a few Aurors circled on broomsticks.

The balls went off, and Harry went into his circling pattern as Jacobs began on the opposite side of the pitch. "Bell takes possession of the Quaffle, passes to Ginny Weasley—here comes Finch-Fletchley—ooh! Nice dodge by Weasley! They're heading for the scoring area—Watson blocks a Bludger heading for Creevy, Weasley enters the scoring area, shoots—goal for Gryffindor!"

The Gryffindor stands burst into song:

_Weasley_ _is our queen,  
_ _Weasley_ _is our queen,  
_ _She always gets the Quaffle in,  
_ _Weasley_ _is our queen!_

Harry grinned and doubled up his search. A few minutes later, Ron made two saves in a row, and the Gryffindors sang the "king" version. Then Harry heard a new verse that made him whoop with delight:

_The Weasleys are a perfect team,  
_ _She makes the goals,  
_ _He blocks the rings,  
_ _That's why Gryffindors all sing,  
_ _The Weasleys are our king and queen!_

As Harry glanced over his shoulder to see Ron, red-faced but beaming at an equally-delighted Ginny, he spotted a flicker of gold near the Gryffindor hoops. Ginny spotted it too and promptly zipped across Jacobs' line of vision.

 _Thank you, Ginny!_ Harry crowed mentally and raced after the Snitch.

"Watch out!" Ron shouted, pointing, and Harry barely managed to duck in time to avoid a Bludger. In that moment, the Snitch was gone.

"A narrow miss there for Potter!" Dean yelled, but Harry heard a new chorus of voices, these much younger that seemed to be coming from the Slytherins.

 _"How do you spell LOSER, P-O-T-T-E-R!"_ a large crowd of Slytherins was chanting.

Harry wasn't the only one who let out an incredulous burst of laughter; he saw Ginny heading toward Zacharias again with the Quaffle, and she shot him an astonished look, grinning helplessly at the absurdly bad line. He agreed: it was so bad it was funny! As he circled, the Gryffindors were draped over their section of the stands with laughter as the Slytherins trailed off, not having achieved the effect they'd been hoping for.

"Whoops! Finch-Fletchley gets one by Weasley, goal for Hufflepuff!"

The Slytherins cheered lustily. Close to their stands, Harry saw the Snitch again and took off without hesitating; he was closer than Jacobs anyway.

 _Call on Potter,  
_ _Anytime we're in a pinch!  
_ _Call on Potter,  
_ _He's the one who gets the Snitch!_ the Gryffindors sang, drowning out the Slytherins.

Harry was so surprised he nearly lost sight of the Snitch—but not quite. Jacobs never even caught up. The Gryffindors sang even louder. It was a little distracting, but in a good way. Harry was so intent on the Snitch that he followed it right through one of Hufflepuff's goal posts.

"Oy! How many points does Gryffindor get if their Seeker goes through the rings?" Dean yelled over the cheers.

There was no time for anyone to answer: Harry caught Snitch.

The stands went as wild as if the Cup had just been won. Harry was nearly knocked off his broom by Andrew and Lavinia, then Ginny and Ron circled him all the way down. "A decisive victory for Gryffindor!" Dean cheered, but he could barely be heard over the singing of _Weasley_ _is our king, Weasley is our queen,_ and _Call on Potter._

Once on the ground, Harry found himself hoisted onto his teammates' shoulders along with Ron and Ginny (made possible by their larger-than-normal team.) They were carried out of the Quidditch stadium with much fanfare to the rest of the Gryffindors, who sang them all the way back to the school.

_He didn't let the Quaffle in,  
_ _Weasley_ _is our king!_

"You let it in once!" Ginny was yelling at Ron. "After the Slytherins started up!"

"Because I couldn't stop _laughing!_ " Ron yelled back.

"You get the impression they're running out of ideas?" Harry laughed. "How do you spell 'Loser?'"

"S-L-Y-T-H—something like that!" Ron replied. "Oy! Watch your head!"

Too late, Harry got a solid bonk on the noggin and lost his glasses when he failed to duck the threshold as they were carried inside. "Ow! Oh, Harry!" Hermione cried, and he was hastily lowered to the ground. "Are you okay?"

Seeing stars, Harry shook his head. "Ow is the word. Does anyone see my glasses?"

"Here—oh dear. _Reparo!_ " Ginny restored them as he stumbled to his feet. "There. Good as new."

"Thanks," Harry went to take them, but his head suddenly swam, and he dropped them again.

"Harry! _Reparo!_ Really, you—Harry?"

Harry couldn't seem to focus his eyes. "Hermione…I…think amulet's…wearing off…"

"Oh dear. Sit down, quick." Red Quidditch uniforms and black robes swirled around him.

"All right there, mate?" Ron was on one side of him, Hermione on the other.

Ginny reached under the collar of his uniform and tugged out the amulet. "It's warm. Should we take it off?"

"No, leave it. I want to try something."

"Hermione…" Harry felt smothered; the world was closing in…he couldn't breathe.

"Hold on," said the black and brown blur in front of him. "I can't hold him off completely, but I may be able to ease it a bit." Hermione began murmuring an incantation, and Harry began breathing more easily, although the dizziness didn't abate.

"At least he waited until _after_ we won to faint."

"Shut up, Seamus!" snapped Ron, so sharply that several people exclaimed. "Hold on, Harry."

"Hermione, this thing is burning hot!"

Harry saw green again. "It's…back…"

"I don't like this!" said Ron's voice beside him.

"It's more violent than we thought. Get a professor, someone, quick! I'm sorry, Harry, this was a mistake!"

Harry could barely hear her. The green light was closing in, he barely felt Ron and Ginny easing him to the ground and calling his name desperately as the green haze rose up and swallowed him.

* * *

 

The greenish haze swirled around him, cold and damp, making him shiver. The hard ground was damp beneath his back, but the amulet burned painfully hot on his chest.

Harry blinked weakly, trying to clear his vision. The haze flickered with green light. He couldn't seem to move at all—

Long white fingers suddenly closed around the gold amulet. Harry watched in confusion as they raised it from where it hung, then his eyes followed up the black clad arm in the dim light to a pair of glowing red eyes only feet away.

"No!" Panic shot through him like lightning, and he gasped.

Voldemort bared his teeth and yanked the amulet from around Harry's neck, breaking the lanyard—

* * *

 

"AAAUUUGH! NO! NO!" Harry flailed and thrashed with all his might.

Arms were holding him; he kicked in terror. How had he—where was he—"HARRY! You're here! _You're here!_ "

It took a minute for him to realize he was hearing a girl's voice shouting, then he gasped with relief and stopped fighting. The world came back into focus; he was still lying on the floor of the main entryway of the school. And his head was currently in Ginny Weasley's lap. He hurriedly tried to sit up; fortunately, everyone else seemed too alarmed to notice. "Harry, what happened?" Ron asked.

"A…vision, I think…only not…" he stammered, still shaking. Seeing Voldemort that close had brought back very unpleasant memories.

"I'll say not! We thought you'd died!" Neville exclaimed.

Harry stared, and Ron explained, "I've never seen you have a vision like that, you sort of went…"

"Insubstantial," Ginny finished. Harry twisted around in shock to look at her, and she nodded. "Like a ghost. And the amulet's disappeared completely."

Harry's heart seemed to freeze in his chest. He slowly felt under his uniform collar with shaking hands: the amulet was gone, but there was a rough, raw weal on his neck as if it had been forcibly torn off. He began shaking harder. And the back of his Quidditch uniform was damp, even though the floor beneath him was dry.


	21. The Forest of Shadows

Harry's heart was pounding furiously. It had been real, not a vision, Voldemort had snatched him right out of Hogwarts…

"Harry! Harry, what is it?" Ginny exclaimed.

"Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall pushed through the crowd to kneel in front of him. "Breathe. Calm down and breathe."

"He had me," Harry gasped. "He took the amulet…"

"Amulet? What amulet?"

Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances. Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes at them. "I made him an amulet so he could play," Hermione said quickly.

" _We_ made it," Ginny said firmly. "Harry, relax, it was just a dream!"

"Wasn't," he choked out. _He had me he could get me again I couldn't stop him—_

"POTTER!" Professor McGonagall grabbed his shoulders; he had somehow wound up against the wall with his knees against his chest, shaking like a leaf. "Look at me."

Harry forced himself to look up, even though the shaking refused to stop. He'd been in Voldemort's hands twice now, with no way of knowing when he might be dragged back… _I don't want to go back there please don't let me go back there…_ The entry was very quiet. "All students, return to your dormitories immediately," came Professor Dumbledore's voice through the crowd, sending most of the occupants of the other Houses scurrying away. Then the headmaster came towards Harry, smiling briefly at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, who had not gone with the others. "Minerva, perhaps you would speak with Miss Weasley and Miss Granger. Harry," he held out a hand. "Come with me."

Harry accepted Dumbledore's help getting to his feet and allowed himself to be led to the headmaster's office. Professor Snape was waiting for them. Dumbledore pressed Harry into a chair and beckoned to Fawkes, who flew over to sit with him, singing gently. But even the phoenix's song wasn't quite enough to make Harry's heart slow down. Dumbledore sat down behind his desk, watching Fawkes rather than Harry himself. "Tell me what happened, Harry."

He swallowed and said softly, "I wanted to play, but the dizzy spells…we knew they'd cause trouble. Hermione and Ginny made me an amulet."

Standing against the wall next to Phineas Nigellus's portrait, Snape made a startled noise. "Go on," said Dumbledore.

"I made it through the game, but when it started to wear off, I got dizzy and…saw green again. Then I faded out and…" Harry's mouth went dry. Fawkes scooted closer to him and made a soft crooning noise. He shut his eyes. "I went somewhere else. I saw…Voldemort was there…right there…I was lying on the ground, and I couldn't move, and he pulled off the amulet…" _Please let it have been a dream please let it have been a dream…_ With shaking hands, he tugged aside the collar of his Quidditch robe.

Snape jerked away from the wall as if it had burned him and came to inspect the telltale mark on Harry's neck. "What sort of lanyard was it?"

"Yarn, I think. Just the stuff Hermione knits with," said Harry.

"What else do you remember?" Dumbledore asked softly.

Harry shrugged. "The ground…hard, wet. My robes…there was haze, like fog, really cold and damp, and flickering green light. When the amulet came off, I was back." Dumbledore came around his desk to look at Harry's neck as well. He and Snape were very quiet until Harry couldn't stand it any longer. "It wasn't just a vision, was it?"

There was a brief silence, and then, "No, Harry. It was not."

* * *

 

"Hermione and Ginny got twenty points docked each," Ron told Harry in the common room that evening. "For meddling with advanced magic unsupervised. Remus was really upset with them."

"Is that where he was?" Harry murmured, sitting in an armchair and staring into the fire. What he wouldn't have given to see Sirius in it.

Ron was playing with Bastet. "Yeah. Getting protective of you, that one. He got on me for putting the team ahead of your safety." Harry glanced at him, but Ron didn't appear too bothered. "Can't blame him, I suppose. You are all he's got left." Harry winced. "Oh, sorry, mate!"

"'s okay," Harry muttered.

The common room was very quiet. Parvati and Lavender were reading Tarot cards in the corner, but most Gryffindors were still down at dinner. Harry hadn't been hungry. Ron was watching him. "You want to tell what the vision was? It must have been bad."

"Wasn't a vision," Harry muttered. Ron scooted his armchair closer to Harry's. "Somehow…I went somewhere else. Voldemort was there." He showed Ron the mark on his neck. "He took the amulet."

"Bloody hell!" Ron gasped. "That's why you almost disappeared?" Harry nodded. Ron pulled his knees up to his chest. "What's it mean? I mean, what'd Dumbledore say?"

"I've been seeing this place in visions; it's a forest somewhere. It's cold and damp," Harry tucked his legs underneath himself in the armchair. "We think it's Voldemort's new headquarters. That's where I was."

"How'd he get you there? The amulet?"

Harry shook his head. There was still green on the edges of his vision. It seemed to be becoming a constant. "You remember that torch I told you about, that he used when he had me this summer?"

"Yeah. I thought it was just to make sure you didn't wake up."

"That's what I thought too. I remember it going out when…Snape woke me. But Voldemort said it would bind us. That's why I keep seeing green." Harry forced his gaze from the fire and looked at Ron. "He's using it to get to me. The connection from it is even stronger than the scar. He can curse me from a distance."

Ron shivered. "So what do we do now? I mean, how do we make the torch...er... _stop_ binding you?"

Harry stared into the fire. "I don't know."

* * *

 

Hermione was stricken that the amulet might have caused more problems than it solved, and apologized every chance she got for the next few days. She also took it upon herself to determine the location of Voldemort's new hideout, and plagued Harry with questions aout his visions. "Woods, dark, cold, damp," she frequently muttered to herself. "Well, that only describes about a hundred places in the world."

Ginny was much calmer about the whole thing. But it was hard for anyone to remain calm when Hermione did another Revealing Spell on the dormitory. They found the same greenish snakes of magic—lots of them—pressed against the invisible shield made by the wards and attacking it with all their might. "I'm about ready to switch to Hufflepuff," muttered Dean Thomas as they watched it through the window.

"It wouldn't make any difference for you," said Ginny. "They're only interested in Harry."

Even in the dormitory, Harry was starting to see green in his sleep again. He didn't have to ask Hermione or even Dumbledore to realize what it meant: the wards were failing.

_Voldemort threw them down at Privet Drive, and Dumbledore said that was the most powerful protection there was. Thanks to that ruddy torch there's nowhere he can't get to me._

Harry wasn't the only one getting used to life under siege. The _Daily Prophet_ arriving with headlines of another attack on the Ministry of Magic or some poor Muggle or Muggle-born family no longer caused an uproar, just a lot of muttering and shivering. Harry and his friends were more interested than their classmates in Voldemort's strangely frequent forays into the Department of Mysteries.

"What could he be after in there?" Ron mused one day at breakfast.

"Any number of things," said Hermione. She glanced at Harry and lowered her voice. "What I want to know is what he's so interested in in the Death Chamber."

Harry knew she was afraid to mention that place in front of him—and it did still make his stomach turn—but he shrugged and said, "How often has he gone there?"

"Last night was the third time he's turned up," said Hermione, scanning Rita Skeeter's article. "With a Death Eater he called Wormtail."

* * *

 

"What could Voldemort and Pettigrew be doing in the Department of Mysteries?" Harry got the nerve up to ask Snape one night during Occlumency.

Why he'd thought Snape might be forthcoming, he could not imagine. "I have no earthly idea, Potter," the Potions Master snapped. "Kindly concentrate on the task at hand."

With an effort, Harry pushed aide his aggravation and worked on the breathing and centering Lupin had taught him. The forest he used to use as his escape now reminded him too much of the dark place where Voldemort's fortress was, so he'd switched to the seashore, with lots of blue sky and sun. That seemed to work. "Ready," he said calmly, not raising his wand.

 _"Legilimens!"_ Harry concentrated on the waves rolling over golden sand, and on a whim, made them bigger. And it was breezy and very warm and quiet. Snape stepped back. "Well. At last you are showing real progress. However, the Dark Lord will not give you time to clear your mind. You must learn to do so quickly."

"Right." Harry braced himself, but Snape did not attack again. Instead, he went and inspected some horned squid he had in a row of jars on the shelf. Harry waited, first puzzled, then annoyed, as Snape ignored him. Finally, he demanded, "Whatever are you waiting for!"

Snape turned to him. _"Legilimens!"_

It was a tidy trap; images began to roll past his mind. _Damn!_ He fought to bring the seashore back, but he was too rattled to bring his emotions under control. He was lying on the wet stone floor as Voldemort snatched the amulet...he was lying on the dry stone floor screaming, as Bellatrix Lestrange poured torturing potion over him…he was struggling against Death Eaters forcing the Draught of Living Death into his mouth, scared, so scared….

"No!" Harry gasped and fell to his knees as Snape pulled suddenly back, but then Harry's mind was flooded with foreign memories: A greasy-haired man watched robed wizards sealing an unconscious boy in a stone tomb, forcing a cheerful smile…a gaunt, black-haired woman flirted with the man as he stood at a red-eyed wizard's right hand…the greasy-haired man crept toward the tomb and shot a jet of green light into the wizard guarding it…

"POTTER!" Shape bellowed, and Harry dropped his head.

"Sorry, didn't—"

Snape hauled him to his feet. "If the Dark Lord takes you tomorrow, your defenses are still pitifully weak; he will break through them in minutes!"

"I'm _trying—_ "

I don't want your excuses, Potter!"

I got you out, didn't I?" he protested angrily.

"No, you did not, I—" Snape broke off. Harry blinked, remembering that last attempt, and something clicked in his mind.

He had never raised his wand or cleared his mind, but Snape had pulled away, as if recoiling, so fast that Harry was pulled with him, into his own memories. Harry remembered the last memory before it happened, of being so very, very afraid…so that was why Snape had started remembering that same night.

Snape was watching him, still breathing heavily. "If you intend to be of any use at all during this war, you will have to master your emotions," he said tightly.

 _That's what you always say. You and all the rest of them. Even though yours aren't nearly as airtight as you'd have me believe,_ Harry thought. Was that why Snape had always avoided his memories of that night? Aloud, he muttered, "I didn't know I was supposed to be useful in this war."

"If I was forced to lose the advantage of obtaining information from the Dark Lord's ranks in order to save your miserable life," Snape growled, "you had bloody better be useful. Now get out."

With a frustrated sigh, Harry headed for the door. His mind kept wandering back to what he'd seen and remembered of Snape spying on Voldemort. As he reached the doorway, something made him pause. He looked back and saw Snape reading something at his desk, his head resting on his hand.

"Sir," he heard himself say. "You may not be able to spy anymore…but at least you don't have to play their game anymore." Snape's head shot up, looking at Harry in disbelief. "You're free now, aren't you? You told Malfoy that day…"

A very odd expression took over Snape's face, but when he spoke, to Harry's surprise, his voice was quiet. "As long as he and his followers live, Potter, none of us are free."

* * *

 

"Our next Hogsmeade visit is this weekend, "Ron said, trying to cheer Harry up.

Harry poked without interest at his shepherds' pie, saw Hermione open her mouth to comment, and hastily took a bite. "Thought you two would be..." he waggled his eyebrows. Both of them turned red. "We want you to come," Ron muttered. "We told you, nothing's changed."

On Ron's other side, Ginny winked at Harry and asked, "So, what are you going to do then?"

"The twins are demonstrating some of their wheezes at Zonko's," said Ron.

"Wow," said Harry. "Zonko doesn't consider them competition?"

"If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, "Ginny quipped. "He wrote them and said he's interested in selling some of their products. So, Percy went with them to meet him, and they signed a contract, as Percy put it, to make sure they got every Knut those things are worth! There'll be a party to premiere them on Saturday."

Harry was impressed. "That's great! And nice of Percy to do that."

"Believe it or not, I heard Fred—or maybe it was George—saying he's never appreciated Percy so much," said Ron.

"Does Fudge know?" Hermione asked, lowering her voice.

Ginny nodded. "But Percy said he fed him a good excuse, something about a commission. Apparently, Fudge is greedy enough to believe it."

"The twins paid him?" asked Harry.

Ron shook his head. "They offered, but he wouldn't let them, even though they were really excited about the deal he got them."

"I think he's trying to make up for last year," Ginny remarked. "Not that I'll discourage him. But he's still edgy around Dumbledore."

"Why, Dumbledore's—"

Harry interrupted Hermione. "Dumbledore's not infallible. _I'm_ still edgy around him."

"He's doing his best," Hermione insisted. "Maybe if you'd have a little faith in him, you wouldn't be so—"

Harry leaned across the table furiously, putting his face inches from hers and causing Ron and Ginny to start. He glared at Hermione's wide eyes and hissed, "My godfather's _dead_ because of Dumbledore expecting me to have _bloody…blind…faith!_ "

"Hey!" Ron protested as Hermione's eyes filled, but instead of choking out an apology as he'd expected, she reached toward his cheek in a gesture disturbingly like Mrs. Weasley. Harry pulled back and started to leave the table, but only made it a few steps before the Great Hall tilted and turned green. Neville and Seamus had to jump from their seats to keep Harry from toppling over.

"Oy! Harry! You okay?" exclaimed Dean.

While some students jumped up to see if Harry needed help, others remained in their seats and muttered amongst themselves. Loud jeers could be heard from the Slytherin table. Harry, with the aid of several supporting hands, sat slowly back down and rested his head on his arms, willing the green light to go away. Another frustrating constant in his life of late, his scar was prickling. His head felt terribly heavy.

His friends' questions and exclamations broke off suddenly, and someone put a hand on his shoulder. Without thinking, he mumbled, "Sirius?"

Someone hissed, then Ron said quickly in a shaky voice, "Missed that, mate. What's serious? Is it a vision?"

 _Oh…damn!_ Harry fought to keep his mind working in the green haze and muttered, "This spell…more serious. I feel really weird."

Someone sighed. "Let's get you to the hospital wing, Harry." said Professor Lupin's voice. Harry let himself be pulled to his feet and ushered out of the room as the entire student body stared at him.

* * *

 

Halfway to the hospital wing, he fainted altogether. For a time, he was lying helpless in the green-lit mist, cold and damp, but then his surroundings changed.

He was standing in front of the stone archway, its veil waving gently, watching a small, black-robed wizard uncorking a vial of potion. "This had best succeed, Wormtail."

"It shall, Master. I'm certain." Wormtail simpered. "Once we have perfected it, even Death cannot stop you!"

"If I find you have brought me here pointlessly once more, I will feed you to Nagini," Harry hissed.

"This is the last time, my lord!" Wormtail pleaded, cringing. "Then we will have the technique should any harm befall you!"

"And how will we know for certain?" sneered a gaunt-faced, black-haired woman.

Wormtail actually paused to smile at her. "You'll confirm it yourself, good lady."

Bellatrix and the man next to her, Lucius Malfoy, exchanged dubious glances. "Enough," Harry told them. "Malfoy, assist him!"

"Yes, Master." Malfoy picked up several blood-red candles and laid them at the base of the archway, very close to the veil. He wavered a moment before stepping back, looking paler than usual.

Wormtail handed Malfoy a handful of something silver and powdery, then took the opened vial of potion – now emitting red steam – in one hand, and his wand in the other. "Get ready," he said, his voice quavering.

Harry watched as Malfoy and Wormtail pointed their wands at the veil, and began chanting softly. A breeze began to rustle his robes…the chanting rose in volume. Harry felt nothing, but the Death Eaters shivered; it was growing cold in the chamber. The three candles burst into flame; the chanting grew louder. The wind was blowing the veil. It was rising.

But Harry sensed something; a presence, not an intruder…he felt a surge of fury… _the boy!_

Harry gasped. He was back on the damp stones with green light flickering in the hazy air. He turned his head. The green flame torch was burning on a raised stone above him. Looking the other way, he saw an opening in the slimy stone walls. He was high up, looking down upon the dark canopy of trees and a single mountain glowing silver beyond them.

"Nott!" a voice suddenly shouted. "He's back!"

From a dark hallway across from Harry, two Death Eaters were staring at him. He recognized them: Nott and Avery.

"He's awake," Avery muttered, and pointed his wand at Harry. " _Stupefy!_ "

* * *

 

"NOOO!" Harry cried in panic, fumbling for his wand.

Arms wrapped around his chest. "Harry! Harry! You're here! You're safe—don't fight!"

"R-Remus?" Harry let out a gasp of relief and sat still. Professor Lupin let go of him and sat back on the side of the bed in the hospital wing. "I had—vision…"

"Easy, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall. She was standing at the foot of his bed with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny wide-eyed behind her.

"Breathe," Remus reminded him gently, and he closed his eyes, trying to calm down. "Can you tell us?"

"I think Voldemort's in the Death Chamber again," Harry said, keeping his eyes closed. "With Wormtail, Lucius Malfoy, and Bellatrix Lestrange. They—some sort of spell, candles and potions—on the—the veil." _Don't think about it, don't think about it!_ "So Voldemort—if any harm—Wormtail said even death couldn't stop him."

Dumbledore appeared next to Professor McGonagall. "Did you see anything else, Harry?"

Harry tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. Remus handed him a glass of water, which he sipped gratefully. "I think…he realized I was there. Then I was back in the green—it's somewhere high up," he exclaimed, remembering what he'd seen. "Made of stone, there's a big window that looks out over a forest—really dark," he added, shivering. "And a mountain beyond it, glowing silver. But I didn't see a moon." He frowned in puzzlement, wanting to ponder something other than the veil.

Hermione gasped and opened her mouth, but Dumbledore raised a finger to his lips. "Hush, Miss Granger. I too recognize the place Harry has described, but we must keep it to ourselves."

Hermione nodded, and Snape, who Harry hadn't noticed until now, moved closer to Dumbledore. "If he's found it, we have a serious problem."

"I had considered the possibility after Harry's first two visions of the forest, but deemed it most unlikely," sighed Dumbledore. "But if Lord Voldemort's followers have succeeded in the Death Chamber, I fear 'unlikely' rules nothing anymore."

"What is that place?" asked Harry. "It felt…weird."

"I imagine it did," said Dumbledore, "but I cannot tell you just yet—I'm sorry, Harry," he added as Harry bristled. "There is much to be done, very quickly. I will explain these events to you as soon as I can, but now, I must see if there is any chance of stopping them."

Harry nodded sourly. Snape glared at him and said, "This does not concern you, Potter."

"Then perhaps you'd tell that to your old mate, _Voldemort_ , so he'll stop giving me these bloody visions!" Harry shot back.

Snape bared his teeth. "Twenty points—" Dumbledore put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Come, Severus." They went. Harry watched them walk out of the hospital wing and fumed.

"Harry," Remus put a hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off.

"I am _sick_ of being kept in the dark!"

"They don't have _time_ to explain things if Voldemort's out doing dodgy experiments—" Hermione started to say.

"Not even to tell me the bloody _name_ of the place I keep getting spirited off to?" Harry demanded. "I've been there, my robes are still wet, and it was real enough for Avery to hex me! What happens if I wind up there again and have no way out? And I don't even know where there is!"

Hermione's lip trembled, but she lifted her chin. "I'm sorry, Harry. The Headmaster told me not to say yet, and I'm not disobeying him."

"Fine!" Harry flopped back onto the pillows, shaking with frustrated anger. "Then leave me alone!"

"Hey! You're not being fair!" Ron exclaimed, putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Harry didn't especially care about being fair just then. " _Leave…me…alone."_

They left. Remus stayed, obviously hoping to calm Harry down, but Harry didn't want to stop being angry. He was so tired of this! He didn't choose to be Voldemort's messenger, or spy, or anything, when were they going to start _helping_ him fight it, instead of patting him on the head!

And besides, anger was starting to be the only thing that distracted him from being scared. Voldemort had realized Harry was inside his head this time, and something told Harry that the dark lord intended to make him pay for the intrusion.

* * *

 

Harry slept for awhile, and when he woke up, Remus was still there. "It's called the Forest of Shadows," he said.

"That place?" Remus nodded. "What is it that's worrying everyone?"

Remus sat back in the chair next to Harry's bed and rubbed his eyes. "It's very powerful—a great advantage to anyone who can possess it. The building you were in, rising above it, is called the Fortress of Shadows, and it is the focal point of the forest's power. Some say Salazar Slytherin made it his stronghold after he left Hogwarts, which would explain how Voldemort found it."

"Found it?"

"It's unplottable, and no wizard has seen it for hundreds of years. Only those to whom its builders would have granted entrance can find it," Remus explained. "It's thousands of years old. We don't know who the builders were, but don't much care for their taste."

"I agree," Harry muttered, shaking his head. Then he noticed Lupin's expression, and felt blood rushing to his face. "I'm sorry about…before."

"You owe your friends an apology," Remus said quietly.

Harry cringed. "I know."

"I know it's hard, to have to live like this," Remus told him, leaning forward in the chair and resting his elbows on his knees. "And I at least know exactly when life will spin out of my control." He pulled a face that made Harry smile a little. "But we must maintain control of everything we can, Harry. Especially our emotions. Otherwise, the monsters win."

Harry fiddled with the bedclothes, feeling very ashamed of himself. "I know. And…I really am trying. It's just…" he looked helplessly at Remus. Maybe he was the only person other than Ginny who could understand how Harry felt. What it was like. "I feel like…" he thought of his seashore center, "driftwood. He's carrying me along, anywhere he pleases, and I can't stop him."

"I know, Harry. I know." The gentle hand on his shoulder made his throat tighten. He stared down at his hands.

"I miss Sirius."

He hadn't meant to say that out loud; he didn't want Remus to think he mattered any less to him. He wanted to say that, but his throat was too tight to say anymore. But the hand on his shoulder tightened, and Remus said simply, "Me too."

Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment, to Harry's relief. "Where's Professor Dumbledore?" he asked Remus.

"At the Ministry. He asked me to explain to you what's happening. He reported your vision, and it's confirmed that Voldemort was in the Department of Mysteries again." Remus shook his head. "But the Minister seems most preoccupied with the potential danger of you rather than the question of how Voldemort keeps entering the Ministry with such impunity."

Harry blinked. "Fudge's still on about me?"

"Absurdly so. Then again, such behavior is consistent with Cornelius Fudge's record," Remus muttered, sounding disgusted.

"What do you mean?"

Giving Harry a droll smile, Remus explained, "In times of trouble, it has long been Fudge's policy to simply kill the messenger."

Understanding, Harry nodded. "And I'm the messenger."

"You are. And after last year, you are no longer connected in the public eye only with Lord Voldemort, but now also with Albus Dumbledore—whom Fudge still nurses a very real grudge against, believe me. To him, you're no longer just the Boy-Who-Lived, but the personification of the prestige and respect in which Dumbledore is held."

"And that's why he has it in for me?" Harry asked wearily.

Something dark flashed suddenly in Remus's gentle brown eyes then, something that startled Harry. He didn't quite know what it was, but it seemed vaguely menacing. But it was gone just as quickly, and Remus shrugged. "In any case, the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall are trying to sort it out. Are you hungry?"

Harry looked up at the clock over the hospital wing doors. "Can we go back to the Great Hall? I could…talk to Ron and Hermione then."

"Madam Pomfrey?" Remus asked. "Is Harry free to go?"

Madam Pomfrey tutted over Harry for a few minutes, but pronounced him fit to be released. "And I don't expect to see you here again for at least four days, Mr. Potter!"

Grinning sheepishly, Harry said, "I make no promises," and he and Remus laughed their way out the door.

* * *

 

Ron and Hermione were already seated at the Gryffindor table when Harry arrived. Remus went up front with the teachers, and Harry approached his friends with some trepidation. But when they noticed him, they both smiled and beckoned him over. Harry's stomach churned with relief; he didn't deserve them.

Ron scooted over so Harry could sit between him and Ginny. "Feeling better, mate?"

"Yeah," Harry said, taking a sip of pumpkin juice to ease his dry throat.

"Did you see how many teachers have gone?" asked Ginny, pointing at the head table. "We heard there's a big security meeting with Fudge." Harry nodded. "I wonder if Percy'll be there."

"I hope so," said Hermione. "Fudge may still listen to him."

"Yeah," Harry muttered, staring at his empty plate. _Just say it, you prat, just apologize!_

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "Did you hear something else about it? You look worried."

He felt himself blush. "No, I mean, I'm all right. I…I've got something I need to say." Both their eyes widened, and he said hastily, "It's not important—I mean, well, it is, but it's not…serious…"

Ron and Hermione blinked curiously at him. Harry forced himself to look at their faces—and felt a surge of utter loathing.

Hermione frowned and leaned toward him. "Harry?"

_Mudblood…_

WHAT! What was he…how could he think that… _oh no…_

"Harry?" Ron and Hermione were both leaning toward him now. "Harry, what's the matter?"

His mind was only half his own. Two sets of thoughts were trying to inhabit his brain at the same time; his scar was beginning to throb, lancing pain deep into his skull. Desperately, fighting for control against alternating waves of cruel anticipation and sheer horror, Harry looked at his best friends and whispered, "Run."


	22. Potter's Army

"What?" exclaimed Ron. "What are you…"

 _Blood traitor whelp…_ he wanted to hurt them— _No! NO!_ His fists balled from both panic and malice. His scar was stabbing, throbbing, trying to burst open, he was angry—he was afraid—he had to warn them, but if he lost concentration for even an instant, it would happen—he was splitting in two—

"Harry! What's wrong!"

He turned toward the speaker. The Mudblood— _Hermione!—_ was wide-eyed, staring at him. _No. NO! GET OUT! I WON'T LET YOU—_ He'd kill her. He would destroy them all… "N-No…not here…run, please, run…"

"Harry!" So many faces, staring, crowding around now, he would hurt them – he had to warn them!

"Run!" he gasped. It was coming, the creature, to crush him in its coils, he could feel it rising up inside his head—he would destroy Dumbledore's charges—"Get away!"

"What's the matter with his eyes?"

" _Oh my God—_ PROFESSOR!"

 _Fight it fight it fight it!_ Harry turned his face toward the head table – the werewolf and the traitor were rising to their feet— _help me…make it stop—_ Remus and Snape saw his face, and both men vaulted right over the table, sprinting toward him.

"OUT! All of you, OUT!" Snape roared.

 _Our moment of reckoning is coming, traitor…_ "Help me…"

Harry's scar burst open. The red-eyed creature was rising; through the roaring in his ears he heard the Great Hall erupting in a chorus of screams.

"He's turning into You-Know-Who!"

" _Harry! Fight him!"_

"Run! Get out! Get away from him!"

"POTTER! CLOSE…YOUR….MIND!"

The coils were closing, he could hardly breathe, the world was going black, his scar was tearing open… "I…can't…" He could barely see Snape and Remus only feet in front of him.

"Hermione, Ron, Ginny, out of here, now!" Remus was yelling. "Severus, help him!"

"I have a better idea." Despite the agony from being slowly crushed, Harry gasped as Snape suddenly grabbed Ron, pinning his best friend in front of him.

"Hey, what are you—let me go! Harry?" Ron fought to break free, staring at Harry in shock.

 _"Ssseverussss!"_ Harry heard himself hiss.

"Let him go—let him—" Hermione rushed toward Ron, but Snape pointed his wand at her.

" _Stupefy!_ " She collapsed at Snape and Ron's feet.

Remus drew his wand. "Snape, what the hell are you—"

"Shut up, Lupin!" Snape pointed his wand at Remus, but kept his eyes on Harry. "Push him out, Potter! If you want your friends to survive this day, _push…him…out!"_

The coils were trying to blind him, but Harry could still see Ron, held tightly by Snape, and Hermione on the floor. He couldn't take his eyes off them. Voldemort would kill them, both of them, all of them… _No…_

The creature surged around him, trying to smother him, and the world was growing very dim, but Harry could still see them even as his mouth moved against his own will. _"The boy is too weak, Severus._ "

 _RON!_ "R-Ron…"

"Harry?" The world seemed to brighten a little with the sound of Ron's voice. Harry could just barely see him, shaking and terrified, in Snape's iron grasp, staring at the red-eyed thing that was supposed to be his best friend. "You can do it! Fight him, Harry!"

The creature tried to hiss; Harry sucked air past his teeth in a wheezing breath. Hermione was awake, sitting up and watching him with intense, desperate eyes. "Come on, Harry. _Come on!_ "

It hurt…it was killing him…crushing him…hissing in rage at his resistance…he couldn't, _he couldn't_ , it was too strong… _You cannot win, pitiful child! I will destroy them!_ hissed a voice inside his head.

 _Ron and Hermione…not them…I—won't—LET YOU!_ Harry let out a scream of agony that might have been the creature's or his own, then his head exploded—or at least, he thought it had. Light and color erupted in front of his eyes, his ears rang, but the coils and red eyes had gone. Then he was falling forward.

Someone caught him, holding him upright, and he caught a blurry glimpse of red hair. "Harry, my God, are you—"

"Here, Ron." Other hands came to guide Harry back onto one of the benches. He slumped in their grasp, shaking, as someone handed him his glasses.

The first person he noticed when he put them on was Snape, staring down at him. Without raising his head from Ron's shoulder, he muttered dully, "I hate you."

Hermione was sitting on Harry's other side, and she wrapped her arms around him. Harry went rigid, gasping, and she quickly pulled away. "I'm sorry, I—"

"It's okay," he groaned, shutting his eyes. _He's gone, he's gone, he's gone!_ "I just…he was crushing me."

"Clear the area, Miss Weasley," Snape barked at Ginny.

"Sod off, Professor," Ginny replied, and knelt on the floor in front of Harry, putting a hand on his knee. "All right?"

"Till he tries again," Harry murmured. "Next time…just run. If he ever beats me, he'll kill you."

" _You_ beat _him_ , Harry," Hermione said firmly. "You won."

"Severus, I'll see to Harry, if you'll deal with crowd control," said Lupin from somewhere nearby.

"Gladly—Longbottom, Lovegood, get back here!"

"Harry!" Neville dodged Snape without even hesitating and ran toward them, Luna at his side. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Lord Voldemort possessed him, of course," said Luna with eerie calm. "But he's better now."

"Harry?" Neville asked uncertainly.

Harry waved weakly in Luna's direction. "She's pretty much got it figured."

"But are you all right? You look…hurt."

"I'll be okay," Harry sighed, keeping his eyes shut. No green tinged the darkness, for once.

"Ron!" Ginny's hand left Harry's knee. "It's Hermes!" Harry opened his eyes and sat up as Percy's screech owl flew down to Ginny. She took the letter and hastily unrolled it. "Oh no." She raised frightened eyes to meet Harry's. "No, you won't."

"What?" exclaimed Hermione.

"Professor Lupin!" Ginny thrust the note into his hands. "From Percy!"

Snape came back, and he and Lupin scanned the note. "Damn," Snape growled, dropping it.

Ron caught it as the two teachers began muttering urgently to each other. "Harry…" he breathed.

Harry leaned over Ron's shoulder. The note had been written very quickly in a scrawl unlike Percy's usual tidy script.

**_Fudge knows. On his way. Dumbledore & others detained.  
_ ** **_GET HARRY OUT!_ **

"If we give Harry to Fudge, we may as well give him to Voldemort," Lupin hissed to Snape.

"I know," Snape snapped. "The Headmaster or McGonagall could contest this; neither of us has the authority."

"Then we've no choice, Severus. You remember what Albus—"

"Yes, yes!" Snape glared over his shoulder at Harry. "We have no choice. Potter, on your feet. We're leaving."

"Wha—" Harry had no time to protest as Ron and Ginny pulled him upright. He was startled to see a large number of DA members hovering by the Ravenclaw table. "What's going on…"

"Fudge means to take you, and we've no way to stop him without Dumbledore," said Lupin. Hermione broke away from them and ran out the side door.

"So where will we take him?" asked Ginny.

Remus paused and met her eyes. " _We_ are taking him where he'll be safe, Ginny. You and Ron and the others are staying here."

"No way!" Ron tightened his grip on Harry's arm. "We're not—"

Remus leaned toward them. "We're going outside the law, Ron. It's the only way to protect him. You can't come with us without risking your whole family. You _cannot_ know where we're going!"

"But—"

They had lingered too long. Professor Smythe-Wellington came back into the Great Hall with milling students peering after her. "Lupin, Snape, what is all this?"

The professors in question exchanged glances. Something flashed in Smythe-Wellington's eyes, and Harry saw her hand shift toward her wand. "Priscilla, we—" Lupin began.

The doors burst open. Students gasped as Aurors poured into the room, wands drawn as if storming a Death Eater meeting. Ron and Ginny yelped in dismay and squeezed closer to Harry, while Lupin and Snape stood in front of him. The Aurors lined the walls, guarding the doors as Fudge strode pompously into the room, with Percy at his side.

Lupin stepped closer to them. That strange, dark look was back in his eyes. "If he tries to lay a hand on Harry, I'll kill him."

"Lupin, shut up!" hissed Snape. "Your condition alone gives them reason to hex you."

"What now?"

"I'll do my best." With surprising dignity, Snape motioned Smythe-Wellington aside and said curtly, "Good evening, Minister. I trust you have a good reason for this disruptive entry?"

Fudge stopped in surprise, glancing around the Great Hall. Seeing only scared students and professors who were not Dumbledore, he relaxed and said, "I should have thought that was obvious. We received a report that Lord You-Know-Who had entered Hogwarts in the form of Harry Potter. We're here to take this young man into Ministry custody." He smirked. "And as I don't believe you are headmaster here, I recommend that you step aside."

Snape was a good deal taller than Fudge, Harry noticed. He did not step aside. "I am not headmaster, but as senior amongst the professors in this room, I have authority to act on behalf of the headmaster by requesting the grounds upon which you are removing a student from this school."

Obviously, Fudge hadn't expected any obstacles without Dumbledore there. Harry glanced around at the faces above the red robes…no sign of Moody, Tonks, or anyone else from the Order. If Fudge managed to overrule Snape… _Let Dumbledore come, please, let them get back…_

"Well…" Fudge dithered. Behind him, Percy's fists were clenched. "He got taken over by You-Know-Who, for God's sake!"

"And the Dark Lord possessing a student is regarded by you to be grounds for arresting that student?" Snape asked smoothly.

"Of course! He's a danger to everyone!" Harry cringed at the sound of murmurs of agreement from some of the students in the room.

But Snape replied, "It may interest you to know that Potter fought off the attack."

"What!"

"The Dark Lord did attempt to possess him, but as I myself, along with Professor Lupin and numerous students witnessed, the attack failed."

"This time," muttered someone.

"Exactly!" Fudge exclaimed. "We can't take the risk." He folded his arms. "In any case, Professor Snape, this is a Ministry order." He brandished a scroll. "You have no say in it." He gestured at the Aurors, and several started toward Harry.

"No!" Ginny cried, pulling closer to Harry. "You can't do this!" She drew her wand. So did Ron. And Harry saw Remus and Snape about to do the same.

"No, don't!" he blurted. They'd lose. Ginny and Ron would be expelled, and Remus would be arrested or maybe even killed. He had no choice… "I'll…it's all right, I'll go."

"Oh no, you won't!" Ron, Ginny, and Neville chorused.

Fudge smiled. "Children, children, contain yourselves—"

"What'll you do to him?" Ron shouted. "Give him to Voldemort, that's what!" Fudge and Percy jumped.

"I-I'll do no such—"

"You blame Harry for all this, and now you just want to get rid of him!"

"He's a bloody troublemaker!" Fudge exploded. "And don't think I don't know about your family's mooning about him—"

"Minister," muttered Percy tightly.

Fudge caught himself and smiled. "In any case, young man, the decision is made. Now you and your sister may either step aside or force my Aurors to disarm you."

"Oh, I wouldn't order that if I were you, Minister,"said a voice from a doorway.

Everyone turned. Stepping smoothly past the Aurors guarding the door, with Hermione at his heels, was Murdo McGonagall. He surveyed the confrontation and strode over to flank Snape. "And…just who are you?" Fudge blustered.

"Murdo McGonagall, Minister, University of Edinburgh." Judging by the intakes of breath, and the way Fudge faltered, that name must carry quite a bit of weight.

"Mr…McGonagall…" Fudge looked like a caught fish. "I didn't know you were at Hogwarts."

"My office was inconveniently demolished in the Edinburgh Death Eater attack," said Mr. McGonagall dismissively. "Now, I gather the Ministry wishes to remove a student from the custody of Hogwarts without the approval of the headmaster?"

"I don't need Dumbledore's approval!" Fudge blustered.

"On the contrary," said Mr. McGonagall in an amused tone. "If the removal in any way places the student at risk of harm, the headmaster must personally sign his release."

"I…I…"

"The boy will be perfectly safe," said an Auror that Harry recognized as Dawlish.

"He will _not_!" Ron snapped, releasing Harry to step toward Mr. McGonagall. "Fudge's got it in for him!"

"Ron!" Percy said in a loud, scandalized tone. " _What_ are you suggesting? Minister, I do apologize for my brother—"

"No need, Weasley. You're not to blame—"

Mr. McGonagall raised his eyebrows at Ron. "Indeed, what are you suggesting, young man?"

Ron swallowed hard, but met the man's gaze. "He's been out to get Harry ever since Harry reported Voldemort was back!"

"You can't prove that, boy!" Fudge retorted.

"Specifics, Mr. Weasley?" pressed Mr. McGonagall.

"Well…" Ron hesitated.

From behind the wizard barrister, Hermione said delicately, "The dementors, Ron."

"Dementors!" Ron exclaimed. "Umbridge sent dementors after Harry, and Fudge put him on trial for defending himself!"

"A hearing?"

"No, a trial, in front of the whole Wizengamot!"

"Rather unorthodox. Anything else?"

"The Cruciatus curse Umbridge tried to use," said Ginny, not moving from Harry's side.

"Well…I'm not responsible for an Undersecretary's deeds—"

"You said you'd investigate her," Neville retorted.

It was like watching a tennis match. Everyone's heads whipped back toward Fudge. "I…"

"She still has her job after all that," said Ginny. "We reported what she'd done in September, and there's never been any investigation!"

"That's got nothing to do with this!" Fudge bellowed, his eyes bulging as he pointed at Harry.

"Minister, three students have made allegations of abuses by you and your subordinates against the same student you now wish to remove. Surely, you do not wish there to be any appearance of impropriety," said Mr. McGonagall.

"Er…no…"

"Then all you need to do is send for Headmaster Dumbledore and present your case to him."

"I don't need Dumbledore's permission!" Fudge screeched.

"But you do," Mr. McGonagall stared coldly down at the posturing little man. "It is the law. And I will further advise you, sir, that it is against the law for an Auror to take part in an illegal action, even under order by a supervisor. So, if you do wish to remove Mr. Potter from Hogwarts without regard for said law, you shall have to do so yourself."

Fudge gulped. Hermione stepped from behind Mr. McGonagall and joined Ron flanking Harry. Neville stepped directly in front of him. Then, from the crowd of watching students, came Dean and Seamus, Collin and Dennis,and the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, followed by Lavender and Parvati, Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and Cho Chang, Ernie MacMillian, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan Bones, and Hannah Abbot. And more students Harry barely even knew, except that they were all in the D.A. They all crowded quietly around Harry, facing the Minister of Magic, and Snape and Lupin drew their wands.

"They…" Fudge backed up, looking desperately at the Aurors. "They're threatening me!"

"As Hogwards professors, Minister, it is our duty to defend any student against unlawful removal from the school," said Lupin coldly.

Harry held his breath. It seemed that they'd all forgotten he was even there. Fudge was shaking with outrage. After what felt like forever, he whirled around and stalked toward the door, muttering, "You'll pay for this."

Just who "you" was, Harry couldn't be sure. Percy and the Aurors filed out behind him.

"I'll bet that never comes up again. He won't dare face off Dumbledore," said Ginny.

"Good thinking, Hermione," Remus sighed, putting his wand away. He looked at Mr. McGonagall. "Thank you, Murdo. We're lucky you were here."

Mr. McGonagall nodded to Remus, then glanced past him at Harry. Harry opened his mouth to say, "Thanks," but no sound came out. His mind felt as though it was drowning in mud; he couldn't put together all that had happened.

But, Mr. McGonagall seemed to understand, and he gave Harry a small smile. "She'd have my hide," was all he said, and then he left the Great Hall.

The D.A. turned as a group to face Harry. "Just what Fudge was most afraid of," muttered Ernie. As they all started to laugh, Harry tried to smile, to thank them, to say _something,_ but he couldn't. "Hey, cheer up, Harry, we won!"

"I think Harry's had a rather long day…" said Remus, ushering them aside. "Why don't you go on to your dormitory and get some rest?"

Harry nodded and started to go, but someone snapped, "Oh, grand, now we get You-Know-Who lurking around our dormitory."

"You're not _in_ our dormitory, Sloper, so shut up!" Ron shouted, and Neville stepped fiercely to Harry's side.

"I'm not afraid."

"Me neither," said Ron.

Seamus and Dean exchanged glances, then nodded. "Us neither."

Remus chuckled. "That's settled then."

Smythe-Wellington was watching them all with an inscrutable face. "And Potter? Does _he_ feel safe?"

Harry wished she hadn't said that; they all looked at him again. He suddenly found the floor fascinating. He had to answer them, but he couldn't! Ron said, "We're not afraid of you."

 _Maybe you should be._ Harry didn't look up. But they all wanted him to say it was all right, so he nodded, and everyone sighed. "Off with you now," said Professor Lupin. "All of you. And if anyone has…concerns, you are free to report them to a teacher."

With that, Harry shuffled off with an escort of dormitory-mates and teammates to Gryffindor Tower. Many of them lingered in the common room, talking excitedly, but Harry went up to bed. It was still light out, but he didn't care. But naturally, once he'd gone to bed, he couldn't sleep. He stared at the bed curtains and thought about everything that had happened.

Now the whole bloody world knew. He knew not to count his blessings that Fudge hadn't brought reporters; Malfoy, or even Sloper, would see that it got into the _Prophet_. And what would happen then? Fudge wouldn't be the only one who wanted Harry arrested and locked up. _And then all Voldemort would have to do is possess me again, and they'd kill me._

But would it be a bad thing—not being dead, but being forced to leave Hogwarts? Ron and Ginny had now managed to incur Fudge's ire, along with Remus and the entire D.A. Not to mention that Voldemort was already after them for being Harry's friends. _What good am I to them? I just stood there today. I didn't DO anything!_ And what would happen if Fudge found out about Percy? And Remus' job was on shaky enough ground as it was…

Everyone knew. About the visions, the possessions, everything. No one would be able to look at Harry without expecting to see Voldemort—and Harry couldn't be sure that they wouldn't. _Either way, I'm trapped._

He was jolted out of his brooding by the bed curtains rattling softly. Ron stuck his head through. "All right, mate?"

To the surprise of them both, Harry smiled. Ron frowned, and Harry explained, "How many times a day do people ask me that?"

He was even more surprised when Ron didn't laugh, or even grin back, but instead hopped onto the foot of Harry's bed and shut the curtains behind him. He looked so serious as he cast a Silencing Charm on the curtains that Harry half-wondered if it was Hermione under a Polyjuice Potion. But Ron fidgeted in a typically Ron fashion before looking at Harry and muttering, "We're worried."

Harry stacked his pillows under his back so he could sit up while staying under the bedspread. He felt cold a lot lately. "I don't blame you," he finally said. "Never knowing if I'm going to faint or turn into Voldemort at any minute—"

"Oh, bugger Voldemort!" Ron burst out, so that Harry jumped and nearly fell out of bed. "I'm worried about _you!_ "

Harry stared at him, simply confused. Normally, he was the one to go mental at a second's notice, but Ron looked halfway between strangling him and bursting into tears. "I…what do you…what are you talking about?"

"You're my best friend in the whole bloody world, and lately, it's as if…you're not all there," Ron said, in a desperate tone that scared Harry a little. "And I'm not talking about the visions and possessions and green spells and stuff, I mean…you act…lost! Last year we understood why you were upset, trying to warn them and no one believing you—stupid Ministry," he muttered. Then he went on, "But this year, it's…not people, or even the world, it's…like you hate yourself!"

Without thinking, Harry muttered bitterly, "What's not to hate?"

"There! _That's_ what I'm talking about!" Ron exclaimed, pointing at him. Harry blinked. "More and more, you just seem…hopeless." He fell silent for a minute, staring at Harry, then dropped his eyes and took a deep breath. "I…you see…I've been really worried ever since…Hermione told me about what happened after the attack at the Hufflepuff game."

Harry shot upright. "She—what did she tell you!" _Hermione! Disobey a teacher's order!_

Ron frowned at him. "I knew she was really worried about something. Ever since the attack, she's been watching you, and…finally she told me why." Ron looked almost as upset as when his siblings had been hurt. "She said you said you wished you were dead."

With a rush of relief that Hermione hadn't told Ron about the vision from Voldemort, Harry looked away and shrugged. "I was upset."

"But you still act like that sometimes. Like you're giving up. I've never seen you just…let things happen before—" Ron hastily raised a hand. "I'm not saying it's your fault, the possession and the dizzy spells, but…you don't stand up for yourself like you used to.

Harry drew his knees up to his chest, avoiding his friend's face. Ron had never been so upset with him before. Always, if Ron got angry about something, he sulked or fumed or griped, maybe ranted. But not this. Never this. But why couldn't he see…

"I'm scared, Ron," he muttered. "I guess…if I've been acting weird…everything's getting worse and worse, and I'm just scared, all the time."

Ron scooted over to the top of the bed next to him. "We're not gonna let him get you, mate. Didn't you see today? Fudge or Voldemort, it doesn't matter, we—"

"But that's just it!" Harry said in anguish, turning to face his friend. "Didn't you see what he was trying to do when he possessed me? He'd have killed everyone—starting with you…it's not me I'm scared for," he whispered.

Ron looked at the curtains uncomfortably. "Don't be scared for us, mate."

"I can't help it," Harry said miserably. "He's killing everyone I love to get to me—my parents, Sirius, even my ruddy uncle, and he's going to keep coming until he gets all of you! And now you and Ginny and Remus are on Fudge's bad side too." Harry balled his fists in frustration. "I'm sorry," he growled. "I hate life. I hate living like this. I don't know what to do. I know what the prophecy says I have to do, but…I don't know if I can. I…tried once." Ron made a startled noise, and Harry nodded. "When I found Uncle Vernon, Voldemort was there, and I…said _Avada_ _Kedavra_."

The hangings rustled softly in the silent dormitory. Ron was quiet for a long time. "But it didn't work?"

Harry shrugged. "He fell, but then he got back up. He said…it was an impressive first attempt."

"Hmph. By whose standards?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought myself."

"And then what happened? I mean…" Ron blushed. "Nobody really knows what happened in the house. Remus said all he saw was Voldemort dragging you out, and you were under a spell."

Harry nodded. "Something he didn't need a wand for. It was a trance or…I don't know. Felt like I was sleepwalking."

"Were you…were you still…awake?"

"You mean, was I scared? Yeah. Terrified. But more than that…helpless. I couldn't do anything. It's still like that."

"But you're not!"

"Not helpless? Right, then why am I fainting or possessed every other minute, always having to be bloody rescued?" Harry twisted around and began pummeling the pillows. "I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to stop him!"

Quietly, Ron said, "You're still in school, mate. None of us know how to stop him."

"The prophecy—"

"The prophecy said you'd have power, not answers."

Harry looked at Ron and grinned. "Hermione's rubbing off on you." Ron's ears started to glow, but he grinned too.

"Then that must mean I'm right." They both chuckled. "Honestly, she didn't send me, but she's worried too. We've been talking a lot; we all hate seeing you so sad."

Harry sighed. "I'll try not to be. I'm sorry."

"Look on the bright side—after what happened at dinner, I wager even Malfoy's scared of you," said Ron. Harry forced a laugh, though he wished Malfoy would be scared of him for some other reason. "And we've got the twins' debut at Zonko's this weekend."

Harry shook off his maudlin thoughts and asked, "Are you sure you and Hermione don't want to have a date?"

Ron went just a shade lighter than the bed hangings. "Nah, there'll be time for that. Ginny'll be with us too; we thought we would all go see the demonstration, then grab Fred and George and have lunch at the Three Broomsticks."

The weight on his shoulders and the tension in his stomach finally began to ease. Harry found it becoming easier to think of tomorrow. "Sounds good. I could use some good laughs."

"We know. Ginny and Neville and Luna are working on a plan to lure Malfoy to Zonko's just in time for a, er, _practical_ demonstration!"


	23. Judgment or Lack Thereof

Harry knew the first few days after his possession would be bad—and he was right. The wards around Gryffindor Tower had to be reinforced because he was seeing green again in his sleep, and he had another nightmare about Sirius that kept him awake for hours.

As for the morning after…

Hermione came up the stairs into the boys' dormitory before Harry and Ron had finished getting dressed. "Oy! Hermione!" exclaimed Dean Thomas, diving behind his bed curtains. "Not everyone's decent here!"

"Sorry," she said absently, turning her back. "Hurry up, you two. It'll be better if we're already there when the Great Hall starts filling up."

Hastily tucking in his shirt behind his own curtains, Harry muttered, "Maybe I shouldn't go."

"Forget it, mate. If that lot wants to be stupid, it's their business. And _they_ can skip meals. You need to eat," Ron told him.

"And you tell _me_ not to lecture him!"

Ron started to lean out from behind the curtains to argue with Hermione—until he remembered he had no shirt on and ducked back quickly to a chorus of "Ooooohs" from Harry and the other boys.

"Do you think it'll be really bad?" Harry asked, coming out once he was fully dressed.

Hermione sat down on Ron's trunk, pulling a face. "I don't know. Maybe we should talk to Professor Lupin?"

"For what? Permission to hex anyone who stares at me?" he groaned.

She shrugged. "Just a thought. No, truthfully, I don't know how everyone's going to react to what happened."

"Look at it this way," asked Ron, "is it better than second year, worse than fourth year, 'bout the same as fifth year?"

"Huh?" chorused Harry, Hermione, Neville, Dean, and Seamus.

"I'm talking about all the _other_ times this ruddy school's turned on you," said Ron.

"Oh." Harry laughed sheepishly. "Well, it's a lot like second year…"

"Figures," Ron agreed.

"But not as bad as fourth year, at least not to me."

"Why not?" Ron asked curiously.

"Because _you_ haven't turned on him this time," said Hermione.

"Oh." Ron blushed.

"I wasn't going to mention that," Harry muttered, feeling blood rushing to his face as well. Hermione had the grace to look chagrinned. "In any case, this is different from all the other years."

"Why?" his friends asked.

"Because this time they're right about me."

"What!"

"That is _not_ true, Harry!"

"Where do you get ideas like that—"

"Why do you put yourself through—"

His friends' loud protests did not stop until Neville, of all people, went to get a pillow and began beating Harry about the head with it. "HEY!" Harry protested, but the others gleefully followed suit, arming themselves with pillows and chasing Harry round the dormitory until Seamus caught him in a flying tackle onto Ron's bed and pinned him down so the rest could pummel and tickle him until he was breathless.

Hermione called a halt with a shriek of, "We're going to be late!" and sent them all scrambling down the stairs.

And so, Harry wound up one of the last people to arrive for breakfast.

Never had his entry into the Great Hall been quite like this: every single head turned as he, his dorm-mates, and Hermione came in, and the entire room went silent. Ron and Hermione each stepped closer and nudged him toward the Gryffindor table. They walked to where Ginny and the Creevy brothers were waving at them, as Harry tried to ignore the whispers now filling the Hall. Even the staff table was quiet.

"All right?" Ginny asked him cheerfully. He nodded and sat, staring at the table top. Ginny pushed a plate of his favorite buns toward him. "Go on, eat. Ignore that lot."

Harry did so, and conversations gradually sprang up again around the room. Then the mail came. Hermione took the rolled-up _Daily Prophet_ from Hedwig before Harry could get at it and pulled a face at them all before opening it. "Oh, bother."

Judging by the whispers and hisses erupting all around the room, other people had the _Prophet_ too, and all Percy's efforts to keep Harry's possession from becoming public had failed. Ron and Ginny leaned over Hermione's shoulder to read the front page story. All of them rolled their eyes in disgust.

"Should I see it?" Harry muttered.

" _No,_ " they all said firmly, and Hermione folded it briskly in half and tossed it aside, where he couldn't reach it.

"Ruddy Fudge," growled Ron. "He better lay off you."

"What's he saying?"

"Never mind, Harry," said Ginny, scowling. "Nothing you can't guess."

Ron shook his head and opened a note from the twins. "They and Zonko are making a right party out of this! There's going to be free hot butterbeer and biscuits for everyone, and prizes for people who volunteer to demonstrate."

"What sort of prizes?" asked Lavender Brown.

"Mm…free Wheezes, vouchers for Zonkos, sweet-baskets from Honeydukes, and gift-boxes from Dwarvish & Banges," Ron read. "And money prizes."

"Gonna try for one of those, Weasley, or is it family excluded?" hissed Malfoy from the Slytherin table. "Some old rule against making money?"

Ginny put a restraining hand on Ron's arm. "No, but we thought you and your mates will need to try for it," she replied breezily. "So you can buy your dads' ways out of Azkaban."

"You little—" Malfoy started to jump up, but Professor Lupin, who had been strolling toward them, cleared his throat loudly. Malfoy muttered something about, "mudbloods and monsters," and turned back to his breakfast.

Ron grinned at Lupin and said to Harry, "They did say we could have a go on the flying carpet."

"Are they going to have time for lunch?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, it starts at ten, there's a break from one to two, then it goes till five. Just what we need, eh?" Ron grinned, handing the letter to Ginny. "Some good, wholesome Wheezing. Even Mum's excited."

"Really?" Harry was surprised. Mrs. Weasley's disapproval of her twins' chosen vocation was well-known.

Ginny pulled a face. "After what happened to Fred, I don't think she'd mind if they joined forces with Mundungus Fletcher. Anyway, I can't wait for the games."

Dean leaned over to read over Ginny's shoulder. "Jacob's Ladder, Musical Chairs—Weasley style—ooh, I'm not missing this!"

"Better not, it's the Hogsmeade event of the year!" declared Ron. "And _mostly_ legal," he added in a whisper that made them all giggle.

* * *

 

Specialized Defense was relatively uneventful, aside from Malfoy attempting to hex Harry outside the door and then insisting he'd seen Harry's eyes changing color. Fortunately, even the most skittish students knew better than to believe Malfoy.

"You should have seen him yesterday when you…you know," Ernie MacMillian told Harry as they entered class.

"Screaming for his mummy?" asked Ron.

"Close! His eyes bugged right out of his head. He was one of the first ones out the door!" said Terry Boot. "Ran Crabbe and Goyle right over!"

"Hah!" Harry had to quash a loud laugh as Professor Smythe-Wellington glanced at them, and they hurried to their seats.

They thought the events of the previous day had made the harsh Professor back off Harry, for she pretty much left him alone during class (aside from scolding him for not concentrating hard enough on the Dark Arts Detection spells they were doing.) But then she told him to remain after class.

" _Now_ what's she on about!" Ron muttered in disbelief.

" _Out,_ Weasley, Granger!"

And Harry was left standing in front of Professor Smythe-Wellington's desk, listening to the hollow thud of the door closing behind the last of his classmates. Professor Smythe-Wellington peered at him, steepling her fingers. He found himself wondering if she knew Legilimency, from the way her cold, hard eyes seemed to bore into his head. "Sit down, Mr. Potter." Harry sat. "How did you feel this morning?"

Harry was so surprised that he simply stared at her. Of course, Smythe-Wellington managed to voice an inquiry after his health with a tone of unconcern worthy of Snape, but the fact that she'd asked at all was shock enough. Once he recovered, he blurted, "Fine!"

He got that hated raised-eyebrow look in response. "Indeed. And your classmates in the dormitory?" Oh. So that was what she was getting at. He couldn't resist glancing longingly at the door. "Potter."

Harry stared at the desk top. "They're not scared of me."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

He looked up at her and then down again. He hated that stare of hers. "Are you not concerned for your friends' safety?"

The question seemed to knock the wind out of him. Not that he hadn't been brooding frantically over that very matter for most of the term, but Professor Smythe-Wellington was the absolute last person he wanted to discuss it with. And hadn't Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Remus been telling him not to worry about it? Staring hard at the scuffed wood of the desk, he muttered, "No."

"No?"

"No!" Lord, he hated being patronized, especially by her.

At the moment, she was shaking her head at him. "Are you in the habit of letting your friends make your judgment calls for you, Mr. Potter?"

"No," he practically snarled. What did she want him to do, leave Hogwarts? _Maybe,_ he suddenly thought. _Maybe that's exactly what she wants._

With an exasperated-sounding sigh, Smythe-Wellington waved him out.

But that wasn't the end of it. After Charms that afternoon, Professor McGonagall called Harry to her office. Professor Lupin was there with her. "Sit down, Potter," she said. There was an almost sympathetic look on her face that alarmed Harry greatly. Remus too seemed regretful. "We must discuss this weekend's Hogsmeade visit.

Harry's stomach lurched. He looked from her to Remus, who lowered his eyes. "Hogsmeade?" he asked faintly, not wanting to hear what came next.

"Yes." Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, while Remus came to pull up a chair near Harry. They must have heard Harry talking with Ron and Hermione about tomorrow, and their plans for the twins' party. _Don't tell me, please, don't say it…_

They did. "Harry," said Professor Lupin gently. "The teachers have been considering whether it would be…a good idea for you to go…"

"No!" Harry blurted out in a weak voice. "Don't say I can't go!" Professor McGonagall and Remus both sighed, looking at him sadly. "We…the Zonko's party…"

"We know, Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "And we do regret this being necessary; you have done nothing wrong."

"Then _why!_ " Harry demanded, feeling the first sparks of anger flickering to life inside him. Didn't they know how much he was looking forward to this, like one bright spot in a long, dark future? Why were they taking that away when they'd worked so hard to keep him at Hogwarts.

"It is a matter of safety," said Professor McGonagall.

"I thought I wasn't dangerous," he muttered bitterly.

"We know that, Mr. Potter, but if you had read the _Daily Prophet_ this morning, you would have seen that there are many who do not, and who would choose not to believe it even if they saw proof," she told him.

Harry avoided her eyes. "Harry," Remus said urgently, leaning toward him. "You yourself aren't dangerous, we all know that. But we have to consider what might happen if you had…if a…"

"An episode," Professor McGonagall supplied. "If such a thing occurred away from the school, not only would the safety of bystanders be in jeopardy, but you too would be in much more danger. The Minister and the _Daily Prophet_ have seen to it that much of the wizarding public will regard you as just as great a threat as Lord…you know."

"So I'm getting locked up till the war ends?"

"Harry, stop it!" Remus said. "I know it's not fair, but no party in the world is worth your life!"

"But I stopped it," Harry mumbled. "I pushed him out."

"You did, and we're very proud of you. That was a real victory." At any other moment, Lupin's words would have meant a lot. "But remember how your classmates reacted, and what Fudge tried to do. If Voldemort attacks you in public again, away from the school, you could be harmed by the witnesses."

"Consider what happened outside your class this morning, Potter," Professor McGonagall pointed out. "You have many enemies, within this school and without. We can protect you here, but those without would seize any opportunity to strike, even if you were behaving perfectly normal."

"But if they're raising a false alarm, I can protect myself," Harry protested.

"With Malfoy, I daresay you can," said Professor McGonagall with the slightest smile. "But from a crowd of jittery onlookers—all of whom have read today's _Daily Prophet_ —it is less likely, even with the assistance of Miss Granger and the Weasleys. And there again, the safety of others than yourself comes at risk."

Harry sighed heavily. "Obviously, your mind's already made up." _It's…not…FAIR!_

Professor Mcgonagall narrowed her eyes at his tone, but said, "I'm sorry, Potter. It is."

Harry gritted his teeth; as frustrated as he was, mouthing off at her would be like poking a Hungarian Horntail in the eye. "Can I go then?"

He tried to sound polite, but Professor McGonagall still huffed her breath out. "Very well." Relieved to be out from under her gaze, Harry left in a hurry.

Remus followed him out. "Harry, I am sorry. I know you were excited about this weekend."

Harry turned to face him. "You were the one who told me to keep living!"

"We also want you to stay alive!" Remus told him sharply. "Make no mistake, Harry, Fudge and the rest of them would seize any opportunity to take you from Dumbledore's protection, and a Hogsmeade visit, even with your friends, would be a perfect chance."

"Grand," Harry said bitterly. "What's next, another ban from Quidditch?" The way Remus avoided his eyes made hot anger boil up inside him. "Oh! I see, that too!" he didn't quite shout. "Why not just lock me up in headquarters like—"

"Harry!" Remus exclaimed, and he caught himself. But he was still furious. When it wasn't Voldemort, it was Fudge; when it wasn't Fudge, it was the teachers. "We're trying to keep you safe."

"This was Smythe-Wellington's idea, wasn't it?"

"It doesn't make any difference."

"No, I guess it doesn't," Harry muttered bitterly.

"Harry—"

"Save it!" Harry snapped. "See you in class, Professor." He walked away, leaving Remus standing in the corridor.

* * *

 

"You can't go!" Ron was horrified. "But…but…tomorrow's going to be…"

"The Hogsmeade event of the year, I know," Harry growled, but it wasn't Ron he was angry at. He paced around the common room, which had cleared (with much yelping) of most other occupants when Harry had stormed in. "Smythe-Wellington put them up to it."

Now righteously outraged, Ron jumped out of the armchair by the fire, sending Bastet tumbling to the floor with a yowl. "That…that…dirty…beastly…"

"My thoughts exactly," Harry said.

"How _could_ she? Does she _want_ you to go nutters, cooped up in here? What next, Quidditch!"

"Yes."

"NO!" Ron had gone purple in the face, his fists were balled, and he began raging back and forth in front of the fireplace. "She will NOT ruin the bloody Quidditch team, I don't—we have to talk to Dumbledore!"

"Talk to Dumbledore about what!" Hermione exclaimed, coming through the portrait hole, her eyes widening as she saw Harry and Ron enraged. "What's happened!"

Ron pointed at her indignantly. "Smythe-Wellington _does_ have it in for Harry!"

Hermione stared from Ron to Harry, then at Ron again. "Why—how? What's she done?"

"I'm not allowed to go to Hogsmeade," Harry told her miserably. He threw himself into a chair. "And they're talking about pulling me off Quidditch."

"Oh Harry!" Hermione cried, grabbing the sides of her head. "I'm so sorry!"

"Never mind sorry," said Ron savagely. "We've got to _do_ something about it!"

Hermione blinked, not lowering her hands. "Do something?"

Harry sat up a little in his armchair. That was odd; Hermione wasn't usually the slow one. Ron too was staring at her in surprise. "Yeah," he said, a little more mildly. "About Smythe-Wellington."

"But…" Hermione glanced from Ron to Harry. "She hasn't really done anyth—"

"HASN'T DONE ANYTHING!" Harry and Ron roared in chorus, leaping out of their chairs and causing Hermione to stumble backwards onto the sofa.

"She treats him like dirt!" Ron bellowed.

"She _hates_ me, Hermione, just like Snape!"

"Haven't you seen how she watches him in class!"

"Well, you haven't seen how she is at my detentions!"

Hermione sat cringing until they paused for breath, then asked, "So she made the decision herself? You didn't mention it at lunch."

Harry shook his head. "Lupin and McGonagall told me this afternoon."

"So it wasn't just her," mused Hermione.

"Why are you defending her?" Ron demanded.

"I'm only saying that if the others agree with her, it can't be her doing alone—"

"She put them up to it!"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Ronald!" Hermione snapped. "I'm sorry you think so little of Professor Lupin's ability to stand up for himself, but can you really stand there and tell me Professor McGonagall would allow anyone to 'put her up to' _anything?_ "

Ron faltered and looked at Harry. Harry scowled and stared at the floor. Hermione went on more quietly, "Harry, I know you really wanted to go to Hogsmeade, but whatever you think of Professor Smythe-Wellington, Remus and Professor McGonagall wouldn't do this if it wasn't for a good reason."

Harry was running out of energy to be angry. "So you think I should be locked up too?" he muttered, moodily nudging a chair with his foot.

"No, I don't, and you know that!" Hermione cried. "But I don't want you to be hurt or killed or kidnapped for the sake of a bloody joke party or Quidditch cup!"

"Hermione, he's not going to be—"

She pointed furiously at the window. "In case you two haven't noticed, there's a _war_ going on! And Harry's the only—the most important person in it! Every time you step outside Hogwarts and away from Professor Dumbledore, you're risking—"

"Dumbledore again," Harry muttered in disgust.

"Harry, he's trying to help you—"

"Yeah, by never telling me anything—"

"Why do you resent him so much? After all he's done for you—"

"DONE FOR ME!" Harry bellowed, rounding on her. She recoiled with a yelp, shaking and teary-eyed, and he forced himself to quiet down. But his voice still shook with anger.

"I'll tell you what he _did for me_ , Hermione. After my parents died, he sent me to the Dursleys. The Dursleys, even though he knew I'd be a danger to them—not to mention that he knew from the beginning _exactly_ how they felt about wizards. And we know how that turned out, don't we? I spent ten years locked in a cupboard. I've never had a birthday party.

"He said it was for my protection, but we know how that turned out too. That so-called protection didn't do my uncle much good in the end, did it? Or me! And then I spent all last year having visions, never knowing what was going on, while my godfather got shut up in a place he hated as much as I hated Privet Drive. And the great Dumbledore never told us what was going on, so in the end we both fell into Voldemort's trap. And now Sirius is dead. That's when Dumbledore finally decided to tell me the prophecy." Harry had to pause and catch his breath, but then he asked, "How grateful am I supposed to be?"

Ron had gone very still, listening to Harry solemnly, and Hermione was crying softly. "I…I'm sorry," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I didn't know! Harry, I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry about it," Harry said gruffly, turning away and feeling a little embarrassed. He hadn't meant to upset them. None of this was their fault.

Ron swallowed. "We'll stay here tomorrow, mate, and do something here together."

Harry blinked at him as Hermione nodded eagerly, then he shook his head. "No, don't do that. I don't want you to miss out—"

"Fred and George will understand," Hermione said.

"No!" Harry insisted. "I don't want you to. I'll be okay. They exchanged glances. "Really, I've missed Hogsmeade visits before and…you two could have a date then," he added quickly, knowing it would distract them.

Ron and Hermione both went crimson. Staring at his shoes, Ron muttered, "You're sure, mate? We mean it; we'd stay if you'd feel better."

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm sure. Go to the party. Tell Fred and George I'm sorry I couldn't be there."

"We'll bring you back lots of stuff," Hermione promised. "Butterbeer, and sweets from Honeyduke's, and…"

"Wheezes," said Ron, nodding eagerly. "And the twins are coming back to Hogwarts with us; we'll have them give a few demonstrations for you that night."

"Sounds great," said Harry, making himself sound as pleased as he could.

"Maybe you could go talk to Remus like you used to third year," Hermione suggested. "You know, get some extra defense lessons or plan our next D.A. meeting."

Harry nodded mechanically. "Yeah, that's a great idea."

* * *

 

But all Harry's reassurances couldn't ease the bitter feeling inside as the rest of his dormitory-mates got up and got ready to leave on Saturday morning. The weather was bright and crisp outside and even though Ron and the others avoided talking about the Weasley twins' party in front of Harry, he could sense their anticipation. Ron suggested that maybe Harry could use today to sleep in, but Harry went downstairs to see them off.

"Want me to stay, Harry?" Ginny offered, giving him a sly smile. "Then these two could make a proper date of it—"

" _Ginny, ssh!_ " Hermione squeaked, checking to make sure the four of them were alone in the common room.

Mustering a laugh, Harry shook his head. "That's okay. You can chaperone them."

" _Harry!_ "

And so Harry accompanied Ron, Hermione, and Ginny out to the entrance, forcing himself to ignore the excited chatter (and mutterings as he passed.) Professor McGonagall eyed him as the departing students assembled, so he came to a stop by the entryway. "Have a good time."

"There'll be more," Hermione whispered, giving him a quick hug that made him blush. "Just be patient. This'll all be over one day."

"Yeah," he muttered, pulling away. "I know. Thanks."

As they headed off, Harry watched stragglers running to join the others and sighed to himself.

"What's this? Ohh, poor old Potter, left behind again!" drawled a voice behind them.

Harry turned and saw Draco Malfoy lounging against the wall, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as usual. "Get lost, Malfoy."

Malfoy sneered, checked to see that Professor McGonagall was preoccupied, then remarked, "You're not much like _your_ dad, are you, Potter?"

Harry's stomach did a painful lurch. "What?"

With a nasty grin, Malfoy said, "My dad said your father was at least brave, even if he was stupid. Wonder what he's think of you hiding behind Dumbledore's robes—"

It was as though someone had set off a firecracker inside Harry's head. Light flashed in his eyes, sound roared in his ears, and the next thing he knew, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were screaming for help as the windows above the entryway shattered and wind like a tornado in the corridor knocked them to the floor, sending them sliding along it like out-of-control ice skaters.

Harry was only vaguely aware of the chaos erupting around him, even of Malfoy and his friends' predicament; his mind was filled with nothing but the echo of those vicious words and a roaring, howling cyclone of rage.

At length, a voice broke throught the maelstrom. "HARRY!"

The wind died; Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle hit the wall with loud grunts. Harry blinked. The students who had been about to leave for Hogsmeade, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny among them, were hovering outside the entry behind Professor McGonagall, all watching Harry with wide eyes.

In front of Harry was Professor Lupin, slowly lowering his wand. "Harry?"

Anger, like a cold fire inside him, still made him shake a little. But he made himself look at Lupin. "I…yeah…"

Professor McGonagall strode up to Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. "If you three wish to go to Hogsmeade, I suggest you join your classmates before they leave without you. Professor Lupin, I trust you will…handle this?"

"I'll take care of it, Minerva," said Lupin, and beckoned to Harry. With the eyes of everyone still on him, Harry followed Lupin back into the school. When they'd gone a ways down the main corridor, away from anxious eyes and ears, Remus turned to him. "What happened, Harry?"

 _Wonder what he'd think of you…_ Harry avoided Lupin's eyes. "Nothing, just…Malfoy was on about my dad. I got angry."

Remus chuckled. "Angry, eh? That was some 'angry'. What did he say?"

The sun was sparkling on the tentacles of the giant squid as it made a small whirlpool in the lake. Harry stared out the window at it. "It's not important," he muttered.

_Your father was at least brave…_

_You're less like your father than I thought…_

He couldn't talk to Remus about that, could he?

_The risk would have made it fun for James._

"Harry, are you listening?"

He blinked. "Sorry. What?"

Remus was watching him closely. It reminded Harry a little of Dumbledore, in a way. Of course, Remus didn't give off that impression of power that Dumbledore did, but he did seem able to see right through Harry just by meeting his eyes. And his eyes were just as gentle. Maybe more.

Now, Remus patiently said, "Draco snipes at you nearly every day, and you don't normally react like that. You were more than angry."

Harry shrugged, looking away. In the mood he was, the concern in Remus' eyes was unbearable. Trying to keep his voice steady, he said, "Really, I…don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry I lost my temper."

He heard Remus sigh quietly. "All right, then. If you tell me you didn't mean to spawn a hurricane indoors, I won't take House points." Harry had to smile. "Do you want to come back to my office for a cup of tea?"

"Er…no, I…not now…I just…want to be alone for a bit," Harry stammered. He didn't want Remus to feel bad, but he was tired of prying eyes and questions. "Sorry."

"That's all right," said Remus, and to Harry's relief he didn't seem put out. "If you want to stop by later, the door is open."

Harry nodded and forced a smile. "Thanks. I'll just…see you later." He quickly walked away.

But getting back to the common room, he found himself facing the hissing and cringing of the first and second-year Gryffindors. Euan Abercrombie and a group of boys Harry had never had the chance to properly meet, broke off their Gobstones game when he came in and refused to look up until he went upstairs.

Harry stormed into the sixth-year dormitory and threw himself onto his bed. _James and Sirius grew up during the war too, Harry._

 _Yes, but that didn't stop them living their lives._ Harry glared out the window.

He ought to stop brooding and go have breakfast. He ought to find Remus and talk to him.

He ought…as clear as if he'd actually heard it, Sirius's voice echoed in his head: _You ought to shake that dust out of James's cloak and go to Hogsmeade._

Before he knew what he was doing, he was kneeling in front of his trunk with the shimmery folds of the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauders' Map beckoning to him like secret treasures. He pulled the Cloak out, hands shaking this time with excitement.

_The risk would have made it fun for James…_

_Live your life…_ Those last words he recalled were Remus's, and for a second, he faltered, seeing Remus's face in his mind's eye—no, this was definitely not what Remus had meant, but…at Harry's age, this is what Remus and his father and Sirius would have _done._

With a soft _whoosh_ of the Cloak sweeping over his head and a rustle of the Marauder's Map being stowed in a pocket, Harry swept unseen back down the stairs, out the portrait hole, and was gone.


	24. Harry

Honeydukes was much quieter than usual, making it easier than usual for Harry to slip out of the cellar, still wearing his Invisibility Cloak, and into the street. Sunlight sparkled over the village rooftops, and the air felt fresher than usual, even through the old cloak. Maybe it was just the delicious sense of being free.

Harry shook off the niggling little shiver of trepidation at what he was doing, any fear that Lupin or McGonagall or Smythe-Wellington might find out about this. If they were worried about his safety from others, fine! He'd stay under the Cloak.

As for Ron and Hermione…would they cover for him? Hermione, well, she was always rather difficult to persuade (unless aggravating Dolores Umbridge was involved), but a year ago, Ron would certainly have aided and abetted Harry with glee. Now, Harry wasn't so sure. But he supposed that was to be expected, what with Ron and Hermione being…Ron and Hermione.

Harry concentrated on dodging the growing throng of people headed toward Zonko's. It must nearly be time for the party to begin. Up ahead, he spotted a familiar red head sticking out of the crowd, and bushy brown hair next to it, billowing in the breeze. Grinning, he hurried up behind them. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Hermione would hiss and scold him vigorously, maybe Ron would let her, but in the end, here he was, and they'd agree he was better off with them than alone.

He'd certainly be happier with them than alone.

Sneaking up toward them, he debated how best to announce his presence to them—without revealing it to the rest of the crowd. They were so deep in conversation it would take more than a poke or a whisper to get their attention.

"Ginny's coming to the party, isn't she?" Hermione was saying.

"Yeah, she's with Luna Lovegood and Mellie Watson," said Ron.

"Watson? Is she related to your Beater?"

"Yeah, Melanie is Vinny Watson's little sister. You've seen her, she was making the signs before the game with Collin and Neville."

"Oh, was she the one who made up that 'Call on Potter' song?"

"No, that was the Creevys. Ginny says Mellie was even close to believing some of that rot about Harry being dangerous, but Ginny convinced her otherwise."

"Was that what Bastet was screeching about in the fifth year girls' dorm the other night?"

Ron laughed. "Yeah. In the end, between the two of them, I think Ginny and Lavinia sorted Mellie out."

Hermione sighed, "One down, a few hundred to go. I wish Harry could be here."

"So you've said about four times," Ron sounded slightly put-out, and Harry winced, but Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Don't start, Ron," she hissed angrily. "I am not having this conversation with you once a week! Not now!"

"What's 'now?'"

"Now, Ronald, is the war, and perhaps you haven't noticed," Hermione whispered furiously. "Our best friend is right in the center of it! Don't you care enough about him not to be jealous?"

"I'm _not_ jealous!" Ron whispered.

"Then why do you get cross when I worry about Harry?"

"I don't, I just…" Ron sighed. "I'm sorry, it's stupid."

"I like _you_ , Ron," she said very quietly, in a way that made Harry suspect she was smiling.

"But you…"

"What?"

"You…said this summer…a lot…that you loved Harry."

Harry nearly stopped in his tracks. As it was, he slowed down to the point where he had to scramble to catch up in time to hear Hermione sigh heavily. "Can I answer without you stomping off in a snit?"

Ron was silent for a minute, then muttered, "Yeah."

"Yes, I do love Harry. The same way you do, I think."

"Huh!"

She chuckled. "I really don't know how you do it. Six siblings and you still manage to be Harry's best friend. I haven't got any siblings. Just Harry, in my heart. And if we stopped…you know…er…going out…I'd still love you that way."

Ron's ears were glowing red. "Er…thanks."

She laughed sheepishly, "That makes it sound a bit odd, but there it is. Now will you stop being jealous?"

"I'll try." They both laughed. "I wish he was here too. But…I'm glad…er…we got to do this…ourselves."

Hermione giggled. Harry faltered; it was a Cho Chang kind of giggle. And what was he doing _listening_ to this conversation! He hastily started threading his way sideways through the crowd, away from them, as he heard Hermione say, "Me too," but he wasn't away fast enough to miss them grinning like idiots at each other.

 _Bloody…hell…my best friends are two inches away from public snogging!_ He made the decision to run ahead to watch the Zonko's party for awhile and then meet up with Ron and Hermione later. Something told him they were going to be late.

* * *

 

It was just ten o'clock when Harry arrived, and a large group of Hogwarts students and Hogsmeade residents were already outside Zonko's, where the doors were open wide, big tables set up outside, and a great array of interesting objects already set on the ground waiting to be put to use. At one table were bottles and bottles of butterbeer, still steaming from having just been removed from a kettle of hot water, and baskets of biscuits of all kinds. It took Harry some maneuvering, but he managed to wedge himself into a gap between two of the tables – he really _had_ gotten thinner! – so he'd have a good view of the demonstrations and access to the food without risking bumping into people.

He surreptitiously snatched a bottle of butterbeer and a few biscuits for himself – and couldn't quite resist shaking one up beneath the Cloak and then slipping it back to the front just as Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson were picking some up. Malfoy didn't get it, to his disappointment, but Pansy did. When she opened the bottle, it erupted in a blast of fizz that thoroughly soaked her and did spray Malfoy rather nicely on the left side of his face. Harry nearly sprayed butterbeer on the inside of his Invisibility Cloak from laughing.

Up front, he could see Fred, George, Mr. Zonko, and Lee Jordan preparing their demonstrations. The twins were wearing their dragon skin jackets, carrying themselves with a Percy-like pompousness. Harry shook his head and grinned to himself as the twins came forward to address the crowd. Lee pointed his wand at a small group of dwarves armed with musical instruments, who promptly played a loud _da-daaaa_ to silence the crowd.

"Gather round, ladies and gentlemen, and let the fun begin!" Lee bellowed. "I give you Mr. Zonko!"

Everyone applauded as the joke shop proprietor strode forward. So did Harry, underneath the Invisibility Cloak, even though no one could see him. Mr. Zonko was an older man, with only a little fringe of white hair left on the back of his head, bright eyes, and according to some, the merriest smile in Hogsmeade. "Ello, ello, ello! Welcome! Welcome to Zonko's! This is a great day for me little family shop! My father an' 'is father an' 'is father 'ave been in the laughter business 'ere in 'ogsmeade fer a hundred years, startin' wiv a market stall! And me great granddad wasn' any elder than these young inventors I've entered into partnership wiv! Very glad I am to introduce 'em 'ere today, so's you can see te great stuff they're addin' ter my shop! Give 'em a big welcome, if yer please! 'Ere they are, our brilliant young proprietors o' Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Messrs. Fred and George Weasley!"

Fred and George stepped forward, bowing graciously to the cheering throng. "Thank you, Mr. Zonko!" yelled Fred. "Absolutely corking to have you all here on this lovely morning, hello to our old school chums, hello to the denizens of Hogsmeade, now let's start Wheezing!" Everyone whooped and shouted. "Right, to start us off, we've got a few lovely new gags for those of you still attending Hogwarts – unlike us eighth years – wait a minute." George elbowed him, and they began craning their necks at the crowd. "Oy! If you all don't mind, kindly check out the identity of your neighbor, please. You know, look left, look right, forward, backward, et cetera. Right. Any of you standing next to Mr. Filch?"

Harry laughed along with the crowd, and the twins were answered by a mass of shaking heads. "Sure?" said George. "No sign of Mrs. Norris either? Excellent! Right, _now_ we can get started!" They all laughed harder. "We thought we'd begin by keeping this in the family, so our first demonstrator, if she will be good enough to join us, is none other than our most lovely and talented sister, Miss Ginny Weasley! Get yourself up here!"

From the crowd scampered Ginny, grinning broadly and waving, her long hair swinging behind her in the sunlight. She had changed out of her school robes, Harry was startled to notice, and was now wearing bright, coppery-brown dress robes. As she twirled around to curtsy playfully to the audience, obviously in very high spirits, Harry was even more startled to notice how said very nice robes brightened the rich brown of her eyes.

Fred and George sandwich-hugged her, making a big show of encouraging even more applause from the crowd before they resumed their announcements. "Yes, yes, lovely little thing, isn't she, but sorry, lads, she's not available!"

Ginny stopped flouncing her robes and looked at George in outrage. "Yes, I am!"

"No, you're not!"

"Yes, I AM!"

Fred smoothly clapped a hand over her mouth. "Let me put it like this, lads, anyone of you who decides to treat her as available will have US to deal with!"

"Oh, why you—"

"Back on subject," laughed George, dragging Ginny away from Fred, "we shall now demonstrate a few small, easily-transportable, soon-to-be-contraband items that I think all will agree are soon to be must-have's for any Hogwarts student! And small-scale enough to escape prying eyes!"

While George was speaking, with an arm around Ginny and gesticulating wildly, Harry noticed that Fred had pulled out a small can that looked like it contained a girl's beauty product. He winced to himself, wondering if Ginny would be persuaded to put the stuff on her face or something, but instead, Fred produced a small book and gave it a quick smear of the innocuous-looking white cream, which vanished from sight a moment later.

As the crowd, noticing the behind-the-scenes action, began to titter, Ginny pulled away from George and glanced over her shoulder. "Oy! Ginny! Catch!" Fred tossed the book at her.

For Ginny, instinct kicked in before common sense, and she caught it. Instantly, it was if she had been electrocuted: her hair, which fell past her shoulders, stood out on end from her head, making her look like a bright red porcupine. The audience howled with laughter.

Barely able to stand up straight, Fred hooted, "And there, ladies and gents, you witness so sweet and simple a little Wheeze: Coiffure Cream! Smear it on any object, and the first person who takes that object from you gets a lovely styling job the world will never forget! And so does the next…and the next! Ginny, if you'd be so kind?"

"Right." Apparently, Ginny had been expecting the trick after all. She looked quickly into the crowd. "Mellie! Catch!" She tossed the book at another fifth year Gryffindor, the younger sister of their teammate, Vinny Watson. Melanie caught it and let out a squeal as her two brown braids tied themselves into a highly-complicated knot on top of her head. Laughing, she threw it to Michael Corner: his short, neatly-cut brown hair turned shocking pink, making Harry think of Tonks, and began waving like a field of wheat. Seamus Finnegan got it next: his slightly longer, dark hair turned bright red and incredibly curly, causing shouts of "Little Orphan Seamus" to ring out from Dean and the Creevy brothers.

Harry laughed as he watched and wondered what would happen if he had caught the rigged book. His hair couldn't possibly look more untidy—or then again, knowing the twins, maybe it could!

And the Weasley show went on from there. Ron and Hermione arrived late, as Harry had expected, and Fred and George made a big to-do of unrolling a red carpet for them—which promptly rose five feet into the air when they stepped on it and flew in several circles around the roof of Zonko's. When it landed, Ron was howling with laughter, and Hermione had a death grip around his neck.

They demonstrated what looked like Sugar Quills (courtesy of a collaboration with Honeydukes) that turned the eater's tongue different colors as they sucked them. There were Vanishing Hats, Ton-Tongue Toffees, and Canary Creams, of course, and the Hogwarts students present all lined up for the chance to compete at games in the afternoon, one prize for which was a year's supply of Skiving Snackboxes. There were Deviling Eggs, which caused any person they were broken against to sprout red horns and a forked tail, and Bottomless Book Bags that swallowed anything put in them, be it books, quills, or papers (Hermione was scandalized).

There were also parchments that notes could be written on during class which changed to notes on whatever the teacher was saying if anyone else tried to read them—and that delivered blistering insults to anyone who tried to spell them to reveal what else was written. Of course, Harry thought at once of the Marauder's Map, but then had to deal with an unexpectedly sharp pang at the thought of Remus and what he'd do if he knew Harry had snuck out to Hogsmeade.

Harry watched people lining up to have a go on the flying red carpet, and made a split-second decision. Instead of going to whisper to Ron and Hermione, he crept around to behind one of the piles of Snackboxes and whispered as one of the twins came to pick up a few, "Psst! George! It's Harry!"

To his credit, George reacted quickly, losing the startled look from his face and knocking over a few boxes so he could stack them back up. "Allo, Harry. Glad you could make it."

"Ron and Hermione don't know I'm here."

"No? Decent of you, letting 'em have their little twosome. We've got them a private booth at Madam Puddifoots."

"You're not going with them?"

"No, we'll be here. Want to come in?"

"Yeah, please!"

"Sneak round behind the Wildfire Whizbangs—be _careful_ of the Catherine Wheels, doesn't take much to set them off—through the side door and wait for us on the stairs to the attic. Lunch break's in twenty minutes."

"Thanks!" Harry whispered. George stacked up the last of the boxes neatly, winked in the direction of his voice, and hurried away.

Mindful of the warning about the fireworks, Harry minced delicately behind the huge crates and reached the side entrance just as Fred happened to open it. "It's bloody hot in here! Too many people— _did George tell you about the staircase?_ " he muttered as Harry slipped inside past him.

"I'll be there."

He waited, feeling strangely anxious, watching them demonstrating a great variety of wicked little Wheezes on chairs alone, which they informed the audience would be put to use in the afternoon's round of Musical Chairs. With that, the morning session was concluded, and Harry watched the twins bid cheerful regrets to Ron and Hermione that they couldn't join them for lunch. Ron and Hermione didn't appear too disappointed as they headed off together for Madam Puddifoots. Harry sighed.

Fred and George sent Lee off to be escort for Ginny, Luna, and Melanie and returned to the store as Mr. Zonko closed up for lunch hour. "Draw the curtains, would you?" Fred asked cheerfully.

Chuckling, Mr. Zonko waved his wand at them. "Wot's the top secret item this time?"

George laughed. "Harry Potter."

"Oy?"

"Go on, Harry, it's all right," said Fred.

Feeling slightly irked with them for revealing him without asking first, but supposing he didn't have any right to complain since he wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak. "Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Mr. Zonko, but he was laughing. "'Arry Potter! 'aven't seen you 'ere in ages! Gotta sneak around in public now?"

"Yes," Harry sighed.

"Cheer up, mate," said Fred. "Come on. We've got lunch in the back."

Mr. Zonko set them up with an array of sandwiches and butterbeer at a small table in the back store room. "Know be'er than to believe that pap in the _Prophet_ , anyone wif sense does," he informed Harry. "Eat 'ardy."

"Thanks!" said George. He grinned fondly at Mr. Zonko. "Great chap, this one. After our own hearts."

"Ere, you two're after mine, seein' as I was inventing me jokes before yer parents were born!" Mr. Zonko informed them. "Mind yeh, does me 'eart good, knowin' you lot's gonna be 'ere after I'm gone. 'Oo else'd carry on the traditions?" To Harry, he said, "Lost me own boy in the first war. I feared there'd be no one to teach me trade. Everyone wif sense knows yer the one that can end the second."

Harry swallowed hard and forced a smile, not certain what to say. But Mr. Zonko just patted his back and headed out to the counter with a handful of store records. The twins smiled after him. "So, our dear benefactor, what's on your mind?" asked George.

Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map and stared at it. As much fun as the Wheeze show was, he found that he hadn't been able to shake that awful churning feeling of guilt inside. He'd never felt so weighed down before when sneaking out to Hogsmeade, why was this time so different? "I…I just…I don't think Ron and Hermione'd approve my coming here."

His mouth full of salmon sandwich, Fred wrinkled his nose, but George said, "And you're not sure you approve it yourself, eh?" Harry nodded.

"Ronniekins told us about this and Quidditch. Rotten luck, mate."

Harry sighed heavily. "But you think they're right."

Fred shrugged. "Hard to say, really. The reasons you couldn't come your third year were stupid; everyone knew what sort of lot your relatives were." Harry winced. "Oh, sorry!"

"It's okay." He got up and examined the rows of jokes stacked up on the storeroom shelves. "I know…I know this year the reasons are good, I just…got so raving mad! It's not fair!"

"That's the truth," muttered George. "As Mum so often attests."

"But this isn't to say you can't have fun, mate," said Fred.

"No Hogsmeade, no Quidditch, half the school jumping out of their skin when I walk into a room? How do you suggest I have fun?" Harry demanded, then cringed mentally; it had come out much harsher than he'd meant it.

But neither twin seemed affected. "Well, for one thing, if you're not giving a certain pair of lovebirds absolute HELL every single day, we're going to be very put out with you, mate," said George.

Harry chuckled. "You don't think they're embarrassed enough already?"

Both their jaws dropped in mock-shock. "Not embarrassed enough!" gasped Fred.

"Impossible!"

"Unthinkable!"

"No!"

"Definitely no!"

"Positively no!"

"Absolutely no!"

"Uh-uh."

Harry couldn't help laughing. "All right, I'll redouble my efforts. Sorry, I guess I was a little tentative at first."

" _That's_ our boy!" exclaimed George, slapping the table. "Enlist Ginny, why don't you?"

"Will she approve of teasing Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Haven't you noticed? She's been trying to egg you into it for weeks!" laughed Fred.

Harry helped himself to another sandwich. He hadn't realized he was so hungry. "And at the same time, I should keep my head down and my nose clean."

They pulled identical faces. "I know it's not fun, mate. And I know we're hardly ones to talk," George began, but Harry shook his head.

"No, you are. You've never had Voldemort," (he noticed the twins still jumped at hearing the name), "the Ministry, _and_ half of the wizarding world out to get you. All you had to deal with was Umbridge and Filch, and there's no need to toe the line with them, as you said at the time."

The twins beamed. "That was a rather spectacular finish, wasn't it?" sighed Fred. "Shame we had to come back for N.E.W.T.s. We wouldn't have, but Mum had to go appeal to our family pride."

Harry laughed. "I know, Ron and Ginny told me. But who knows, maybe this exit could be just as fun."

"Well, we'll have to see that it is, eh?" the twins winked simultaneously. Harry felt a sudden shiver inside, remembering George, pallid and motionless with shock, clinging to the dying Fred. _Because of me…_ He suddenly felt nauseated, and both of them noticed. "You all right, mate?" asked George.

"Yeah, I…" Harry sighed. "I'd really like to stay for the games, even if I can't play. But I suppose I…ought to be getting back. Remus'd be really upset with me if he knew I'd snuck out."

Both twins appeared to be restraining themselves from giving Hermione-like nods of agreement. That alone was enough to convince him. "That one's like our mum when it comes to you," Fred chuckled. "He'll probably yell like her too."

That put a bizarre image in his mind of Remus turning red in the face and yelling like Mrs. Weasley, and he laughed. "I don't know about that, but I suppose I don't really need to get on his bad side. He's risked enough for me this week."

The twins stood up in unison. "Right, then. Grab your Cloak, and we'll walk you back to Honeyd—"

It figured. It really did, Harry supposed. It only made sense that just as he was coming to his senses and about to head back, that they'd start to hear muffled screams outside the shop. The three of them sprang to their feet as Mr. Zonko threw the storeroom door open. "Get out 'ere, you lot! Death Eaters!"

Fred and George both swore very loudly and shoved Harry between them toward the door. "They'll know you're here!" Harry cried.

"We know," said Fred grimly. "Come on, Zonko, out of the store! Make for the bookshop!"

As they burst out the front entrance, they were met with chaos. Screaming wizards and witches of all ages were tearing through the streets, and loud crashes could be heard toward the center of the village. Light flashed from curses being thrown. "Go, quick," George ordered Zonko, and he hurried away. "We've got Harry. Come on!"

They started toward the street, but three Death Eaters suddenly came sprinting around a corner, chasing a group of terrified third years from Ravenclaw. _"Impedimenta!"_ Harry roared, aiming for the white masks. The twins followed suit, and the Ravenclaws pounded on the door of the Three Broomsticks, which Madam Rosemerta opened and ushered them inside, her wand drawn and aimed at the street.

The Death Eaters recovered from the curses and spotted the three boys. One of them had her mask askew; Harry felt a surge of blistering hate. It was Bellatrix Lestrange, her eyes wide and enraged. "Potter!" she spat, almost as if surprised to see him there.

Movement to his right caught Harry's eye; George had stepped away from him. The red-haired boy spun around and aimed an open, wandless hand at a crate of Wildfire Whizbangs, his fingers spread in a strange way, his eyes hard and bright in a way that reminded Harry startlingly of Dumbledore. The lid flew off, and the fireworks, already-lit, burst from it, hovering in the air as though waiting for a command. George spun back around, pointing his hand in a sweeping motion back at the Death Eaters, and the entire arsenal of blazing explosives roared through the air straight at them. Harry gasped and ducked as the Death Eaters sprinted for their lives.

"George, how did you—"

"No time. Come on, we've got to get you to Honeydukes," said Fred, grabbing Harry's arm.

"Wait—no!" Harry cried, pulling away. "It's too dangerous, they'll come after me!"

"We can't let you go alone!" exclaimed George.

Glass shattered somewhere down the street, more screams rang out. "Listen, you need to find Ron and Ginny!" Harry insisted. Both twins faltered. "Get to them. I have my Cloak, I'll be fine!"

"Harry…okay. Be careful!" The twins turned and aimed their wands at all the crates of fireworks. The boxes erupted into flames as the entire arsenal ignited and rose into the air. _"Capio Death Eaters!"_ Gone from fun entertainment sources to near-lethal, blazing missiles, the Whizbangs roared off in every direction. "That ought to keep 'em busy. Go!"

"Wait!" George shoved a can into his hand. "Exit Eliminator. Toss this over the tunnel entrance when you've gone through!"

"Thanks!" Harry bolted for Honeydukes, throwing the Cloak over his head as he did.

Miraculously, none of the fireworks got near him, though he had to dodge several Death Eaters who were scrambling to escape ones that had honed in on them. There was a group dangerously close to Honeydukes, but a small flock of sparkling dragons swooped down and sent them scrambling for cover. Harry ducked through the door, feeling a surge of pride in the twins' abilities—which was followed by a surge of dizziness so intense that he fell to his knees in the empty, damaged store.

 _Oh no…not now, please, not now!_ Green blazed in front of his eyes, and he found himself wishing he hadn't sent the twins away. The screams, crashes, and roars of people, curses, and fireworks still thundered outside, but inside the empty store, it was quiet, so very quiet.

Harry kept the Invisibility Cloak tight around him as he stumbled to his feet and scrambled down the cellar stairs. He had to get into the tunnel and close the entrance before any more Death Eaters came calling! A Catherine Wheel shrieked its way past the shattered windows just as he reached the stairway, and he gasped and lost his balance, tumbling head over heels down to the basement floor.

Fortunately, he didn't suffer any broken bones, but he was bruised and breathless and even more disoriented when he came to a stop. The only thing that could make the situation worse was…the sound of panicked Death Eaters taking refuge in the shop from the fireworks.

"Merlin's beard, what are those things!"

"Dumbledore's got himself new weapons, damn it, someone's going to pay for this!"

"They're from that Weasley shop!"

"Those brats just had to start making themselves useful. Come on, let's get down there before another lot finds us!"

"And Potter's here."

"Potter! He's supposed to be at the school!"

"Well, he's not, Wormtail, I just saw him!"

 _Wormtail!_ Harry's heart froze in his chest. Wormtail knew about the tunnel in the cellar. And Bellatrix had said, _"let's get down there…_ " She meant the tunnel. They were trying to get into Hogwarts.

In a panic, he dove away from the stairs, scrabbling across the floor, knocking over boxes and tins in a desperate effort to get to the tunnel. He dropped to the floor at the entrance, cutting his hands on broken glass, but the trapdoor was heavy, and the Death Eaters would be on the stairs in another second.

There was no time. He yanked open the Wheeze can George had given him and upended it over the trapdoor. Then he aimed his wand at where he knew the trapdoor was. _"Colloportus! Moenoccludo!"_

Between the three of them, the Sealing Spell, simple glamour, and the Weasley twins' handiwork would keep the Death Eaters from finding and getting the trapdoor open, with any luck.

On the other hand, that left Harry trapped in the basement with no way out. He kept the Invisibility Cloak over himself and scuttled for cover as the cellar door opened.

"This place is a mess!" said a vaguely familiar voice. Perhaps Avery.

"Someone's been here. Potter?" Of course, he knew that voice.

"I don't know, Bella, what does it matter!"

"It _matters,_ Lucius, if the boy's not at Hogwarts, then his professors will be coming here that much quicker!" Bellatrix hissed back.

" _Damn it!_ Flitwick's up there!" cried a new voice.

"Nott just saw McGonagall."

"They're looking for Potter! Dolohov, Nott, get down here!"

"Hah! Baby Potter's not back at school yet! Perhaps he's still here!"

At Bellatrix's babyish squeal, Harry gritted his teeth, his heart pounding. Dizziness was coming in waves, making it hard to think. Their voices were all around him, talking about him, his name seemed to echo over and over in his own ears…

"If Potter's here, find him then!" snapped Lucius Malfoy.

"He has his father's Invisibility Cloak," warned Wormtail.

 _Bugger..._ they were all standing on the basement stairs, trying to search the room from above. Harry slipped his wand hand out of the cloak as they began hexing objects at random, knocking over barrels and boxes and trying to drive him into the open.

"Oh, Potter, come out, come out!"

"Potter!"

"If Potter—"

"Potter may be—"

" _Potter!_ "

"Any sign of Potter?"

"He's here, I tell you—oh, _Potter!_ "

_"Harry!"_

At that last hissing whisper, Harry suddenly realized one of the voices calling his name was above his head. He looked up and saw Snape peering down through the broken cellar window, searching for him. Harry had never imagined being so glad to see that man. With a stifled gasp of relief that went unheard in the ruckus of the search, he slipped the Invisibility Cloak just off his head so Snape would see him.

The Potions Master didn't even take the time to sneer, but simply held out a hand. Harry just hoped he'd be able to reach it without getting himself hexed. He scrambled to his feet and made a grab for Snape's hand, but missed and lost his balance.

He hit the pile of sacks he'd been hiding behind with a crash, and the Invisibility Cloak slipped more than half off him. He rolled over and looked back toward the stairs where the Death Eaters were standing.

Bellatrix was wearing a predatory smile. "Hello there, baby Potter! Where have you been?"

"Come ON, damn it!" Snape yelled from above him.

Harry didn't think. He just lurched to his feet, trailing the Cloak in one hand, and aimed his wand at the stairs. The Death Eaters made ready to shield themselves, but it wasn't them Harry was about to curse. _"REDUCTO!"_

The rickety stairs collapsed on themselves with a crash, and Death Eaters went down with them in a heap of black robes and debris. Harry didn't wait. He whirled around threw himself with all his might at Snape's hand, which was stretched down through the window, straining toward him. Snape's hand closed on Harry's wrist and yanked him up. A few Death Eaters managed to disentangle themselves enough to throw a few curses, but all missed, and then Harry was hauled into Snape's arms and they landed in a heap of arms and legs beside the cellar window.

He lay there, gasping and dizzy and sore, as Snape pulled the Invisibility Cloak out after him. "There's a tunnel to Hogwarts, they're after it," he gasped. The adrenaline of escaping the cellar was wearing off fast.

"I know, I know! Come on!" Snape thrust the Cloak into Harry's arms and pulled him to his feet, hauling him bodily away.

Blinking furiously, Harry looked around. There were Aurors in Hogsmeade now, and teachers, but he didn't see Ron, Hermione, or the twins, who he'd assumed were there when he'd heard someone calling his name. But then he saw them running from behind some rubbish bins toward him. "Harry!" gasped Hermione, throwing her arms around him. "What are you doing here!"

"Where's the twins?" he gasped at Ron before pulling away from Hermione.

"Safe. With Ginny. Are you hurt?"

Hermione was feeling his forehead. "You're warm! Oh, Harry, what were you thinking—"

Shouts rang out, just one street over. Snape grabbed all three of them and shoved them against a wall. "Under the Cloak, all of you!"

Ron and Hermione wedged Harry between them and pulled the Invisibility Cloak over them all. Huddled as they were against an open stretch of wall, no one would think to search for them hiding here.

Harry felt awful, not just physically. What _had_ he been thinking, coming here? Hadn't everyone tried to warn him he would be a target? Had the Death Eaters attacked because Voldemort realized Harry was outside Hogwarts? If people were hurt, would it be because of him?

 _Of course it will...Remus will KILL me!_ He wanted to die. As it was, he let his head fall onto Ron's shoulder and bit his lip as hard as he could against the lump of miserable guilt in his throat.

Ron was rubbing his shoulders. "Hang on. It'll be okay. Bloody hell, mate, you're _really_ warm!"

Eventually, the chaos of a running battle faded away, and Snape stalked over to where they were and whipped the Cloak off them. "Injuries?"

"I think Harry's sick, Professor," said Hermione.

"That won't save him the fifty points he just lost Gryffindor. Move. Back to Hogwarts."

Ron and Hermione supported Harry to one of the carriages, and Harry endured possibly the longest, most awful ride of his life, feeling weak, feverish, and sick with anticipation over what he'd be facing when he got back. He never would have imagined dreading a return to Hogwarts this much. When they arrived, he was hauled off to the hospital wing, with Snape coldly watching as he explained to Madam Pomfrey what had happened and left Harry to be examined.

Madam Pomfrey had just given Harry a Fever Reducing Potion and was doing a variety of testing spells on him to try and figure out what the cause of this latest illness was, when Harry heard the doors open and close—quietly. The soft intakes of breath from Ron and Hermione made him cringe and look up, fearing the worst.

He was right. Remus had arrived.

As horrible as he felt, Harry couldn't seem to look away as his reddened eyes met Remus's soft brown ones all the way across the hospital wing. All he could do was watch in despair as his parents and godfather's friend came down the row of beds to where Harry sat with his knees drawn up to his chest. The hospital wing seemed so very, very quiet.

Ron and Hermione were holding their breath as Remus sat down on the foot of the bed, still meeting Harry's gaze with an expression that showed such incredible disappointment that he wanted to die. He sighed, and when he spoke, his voice was very gentle, very quiet.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Harry."

Harry flinched. Hard. He would gladly have taken the worst of Snape's abuse any day. Any time. He would willingly face Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy, if Remus would only stop looking at him that way.

Hermione said, very tentatively, "Sir…Professor Snape already took fifty points."

"I know," said Remus softly. "And now I'm taking fifty more." Harry flinched again. Remus still had not broken eye contact. He went on, "Ron, Hermione, I want the truth. Did either of you know he was going to Hogsmeade? Did he meet you there?"

Harry shook his head, but Remus said, "I want it from them. Each of you. Tell me the truth."

Hermione sniffled. "No. No, we didn't know. I'm sorry, we shouldn't have gone, we should have stayed with him at Hogwarts…"

At last, Remus looked away from Harry. He looked up to smile gently at them. "Ron?"

"It's true."

"In that case," Remus told them. "Don't be upset, Hermione. _You_ did nothing wrong." Harry finally turned away, resting his cheek on his knees, and flinched as Remus patted his hand gently. "There's a staff meeting. I have to go." Harry couldn't bring himself to look up as Remus rose and left the hospital wing.

Ron began rubbing his back. "Take it easy, mate. What's done is done. Nobody cares about House points anymore."

Harry sniffled. He couldn't help it. "Doesn't mean I was right."

"At least you know now," Hermione whispered. "And nobody else got badly hurt, and they stopped the Death Eaters at Honeydukes."

"I'm sorry," Harry groaned, burying his face in his knees. "I'm so sorry!" He felt so horrible, both physically and emotionally. He had never felt so bad in his life. _Remus_ _, I'm sorry, please don't hate me, I'm sorry…_ "Remus…"

"He'll be back soon," Hermione said. "He won't hate you, don't worry. Just say you're sorry, and it'll be okay. And don't sneak out anymore."

"I didn't mean…I never wanted…"

"We know, mate," said Ron. "Just let it go."

"People got hurt."

"Nobody seriously. Fred and George gave those Death Eaters a scare, I can tell you. Did you see the fireworks?"

"Mm-mm," he mumbled.

"But they said you—" Ron broke off.

Hermione leaned toward him, taking his shoulders. "Why don't you lie down, Harry. You look really sick."

Clumsily, Harry let them bundle him back under the covers. Why couldn't they understand how he felt? "'s all my fault," he mumbled weakly. "I was just trying to get Sirius."

"Sirius…oh Harry!"

"What's the matter with him?"

"He's really hot. I think he's forgotten where we are."

"Don't touch the brains," Harry tried to warn Ron. "Dangerous. We-we have to find Sirius."

"Shhh, it's okay, Harry. Just relax." A hand touched his forehead, so wonderfully cool. He sighed, closing his eyes. "My God, he's getting hotter. I don't like this."

"Harry? You hear me, mate?"

"Ron," Harry groaned, desperately. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, and his lips didn't seem to move right as he mumbled out, "Don't die. Couldn' stand it if you died. Got hurt. Over me, all my fault…"

"Hey, easy, mate, easy! I'm right here! I'm not hurt—Hermione, this is really bad!"

"Madam Pomfrey!"

* * *

 

Severus Snape noted with a good measure of smugness that Lupin was very quiet as the teachers made their reports to the headmaster. Of course, what could the werewolf say? Snape had been nothing short of astonished that Lupin had disciplined his precious cub at all, when he'd passed the House hourglasses and realized that Lupin had in fact taken points from Gryffindor.

Fifty, in fact. Severus wouldn't have thought the werewolf had it in him.

Still, it seemed highly unlikely that any _real_ punishment was forthcoming. But perhaps there might still be a detention to be had once Potter recovered from this latest illness. The bloody torch was laying the boy low so often that it was impossible to think of any detention that didn't involve Occlumency training. For all that Potter's antics had forced Severus to deal with in this year alone, he was determined to get that boy scrubbing cauldrons at least once before term was over.

"I should have checked his dormitory," Lupin was saying, his voice heavy with the guilt that the man always wore just like Potter's Invisibility Cloak. It only served to annoy Snape. What if the man's band of friends were all either dead or traitors and the only remaining shadow of them seemed determined to get himself killed? For all Lupin had done to Severus, it wasn't as if he didn't deserve it! "I knew he was angry and unreasonable about the ban from Hogsmeade, I was trying not to push, but I should have made sure he was here!"

"Yes, you should have," Snape allowed himself to say, smirking.

Minerva rolled her eyes at him, and Flitwick began speaking, naming the Death Eaters he had seen. "Nott and Dolohov, definitely, and I think Lucius Malfoy."

"Yes, he was there," Severus confirmed. "And Bellatrix Lestrange and Pettigrew."

"Is there any sign that our assorted Death Eaters' children knew of the attack?" mused McGonagall.

"Uncertain," said Snape. "Though Malfoy and Nott did decide to make an excursion to the Shrieking Shack at a strangely convenient time to avoid the excitement."

Flitwick shook his head. "Sooner or later, we're going to have to question them, Albus!"

But of course, he had no more success than Severus had ever had when broaching such a subject; Albus Dumbledore was dead-set against taking any aggressive action against any student, even a Death Eater in training.

The headmaster was about to speak when there was a flash of green Floo fire in the hearth. "Albus!" Pomfrey's face burst into view, wide-eyed. "I need you! It's Harry!"

_Merlin's beard, what now?_

Of course, Lupin practically dove headfirst into the flames after the Headmaster, and Snape waited until McGonagall had gone before stepping through into the hospital wing himself. He emerged to see Dumbledore walking quickly—and Lupin all-out running—to the bed where Granger and Weasley sat in their usual perches on either side of Potter's bed like his own personal gargoyles. With those particular expressions of panic Snape had seen all too often in the past six years.

Pomfrey and McGonagall ushered Potter's two fans aside, and Lupin lunged at the bed. "Harry! My God…" Severus came past Dumbledore for a look, but the sight of Potter startled even him.

When he'd seen the boy in Hogsmeade, and on the carriage ride back, he'd obviously been developing a fever, but this was a far cry, an almost-inconceivable deterioration of his health. Potter lay limp, eyes closed, pallid-faced, and drenched with sweat, mumbling a delirious monologue that included almost constant repetition of the names "Sirius" and "Remus." And "I'm sorry."

Damn the boy. Damn the dog. Damn the werewolf.

So much for Lupin-the-disciplinarian. The man's face was a mask of calamity as he stroked tendrils of soaked black hair away from Potter's scar, which seemed to glow red against colorless skin. Pomfrey, just behind Severus, was wringing her hands, with a look on her face that alarmed Snape far more than the werewolf's hysteria. "Albus," she whispered, in a tone that made them all look at her. "I can't bring the fever down."

Now Dumbledore was going pale. Severus began cursing furiously in his head, running through every profane word and oath he knew in six different languages. McGonagall sank onto the other side of Potter's bed, raising a trembling hand to her mouth. "Poppy…there must be something…"

Granger and Weasley were clinging to each other. Severus ignored them, too set on the Headmaster to spare concern for the brats. But Albus's words, so quiet, seemed to reach like an ice cold hand into Snape's guts. "How much time does he have, Poppy?"

Tears were brimming in Pomfrey's eyes. "A day," she whispered. "Maybe two."

"Albus?" Now McGonagall's voice was quavering. "It can't be possible."

Dumbledore closed his eyes. "Given the link of the green flame torch between Lord Voldemort and Harry, it may well be."

"What?" demanded Lupin, wild-eyed. "What do we do? What does this mean?"

Dumbledore slipped past McGonagall to bend over the bedside. Gently, he raised a hand to the boy's cheek. Snape could no longer even feel aggravated with Potter for causing so much trouble. There was no time for that. He was no fool; he knew what Pomfrey and the headmaster's reactions had to mean. Along with the boy's life, the fate of the entire wizarding world hung in the balance.

The headmaster's words confirmed it. "It means, Remus, that we have one day, perhaps two, to find and destroy the green flame torch. Lord Voldemort has used it up until now only to spy on us and weaken Harry, but now he is attacking in earnest. If we cannot sever that connection, Harry will die."

 _And so will we all._ Dumbledore didn't have to say it for Snape to know it. The boy, lying so still and small on that hospital bed, was the key to the whole bloody mess, the embodiment of the Order itself. His life or death would determine theirs, it was simply a fact. Snape had accepted that part months ago.

All the same, no one in the hospital wing seemed able to think clearly about how to _prevent_ the boy from dying, but simply stood around, wringing their hands and weeping over him. Minerva was trying, to no avail, to get Granger and Weasley out of Madam Pomfrey's way, and Lupin was refusing to even look away from the boy. As Minerva finally ushered away the now-completely-hysterical Granger and Weasley, Snape muttered, "I will never understand how that boy manages to inspire such fanaticism."

"Fanaticism?" Minerva glanced at him and sighed heavily, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before looking from the boy back to him. "Oh, Severus. You simply cannot understand."

Severus shook off his confusion and went closer to Potter's bedside. "Lupin. A word." Naturally, the werewolf tore his eyes away from Potter and blinked at Snape as if he were mad for interrupting. As if he could somehow save the boy just by staring at him and petting him. "Now," Snape growled, jerking his head.

Thank God it wasn't Black, the stubborn mutt would have refused just for the sake of it. But Lupin did get up slowly and follow Snape out of Dumbledore's earshot. "What is it, Severus?"

"We must act now, Lupin, if you want the boy to live."

The werewolf's eyes widened, growing more alert. "If you have an idea, now's the time."

"There may be a way to find the Fortress of Shadows."

"You are certain the torch is there?"

"Potter's seen it, hasn't he?" Snape scoffed—quietly. "Yes, it's there, and its connection to him provides at least one way in. There may be anoth—"

"Great goblins, what's happened to him?" cried Flitwick.

Lupin spun around, and Snape looked past him toward Potter's bed. The boy's entire body was…fading, for lack of a better description. The way it reportedly had when the Dark Lord had made him appear in the Fortress itself, real enough to remove Granger's amulet. Potter looked like a ghost with color. If he could make the child only half-here, so that healing spells had no effect on him, and potions couldn't be swallowed…

"My God, what if he uses this torch to pull Harry all the way out?" Lupin breathed. He turned back to Severus, that same fierce glint in his eye that had appeared before when Fudge had arrived to take the boy. In a calm voice that rather impressed Severus, he said, "You were about to mention another way into the Fortress?"

Snape nodded. "Yes. I hesitated to do so in that company," he nodded toward the people clustered around the bed, "because the headmaster will not approve."

Yes, Severus knew what that glint in the werewolf's eye meant. _If I told you the way to save Potter was to cut off Cornelius Fudge's head or feed yourself to a dementor, you'd do it, wouldn't you?_

He got his answer well enough. Lupin glanced over his shoulder to make sure Dumbledore couldn't hear, then turned back to face Snape, straightening in a way that Severus grudgingly respected.

"Whatever it is, count me in."


	25. The Toenail of Icklibogg

"Malfoy!" Severus stalked into the Slytherin common room and clapped his hands sharply. "In my office. Now!"

The fair-haired boy gave Severus the same sneer he reserved for Potter and his friends. "Well, look at this, lads! It's our Head of House, Professor Snape, role model for purebloods and Slytherins of all ages, shining example of how to cozy up to Muggle-loving—"

"OUT!" Severus roared, grabbing Malfoy by the arm and propelling him from the common room. He kept a firm grip on Draco's arm all the way down to his office; he wouldn't put it past him to make a dash for it, even if the little brat had absolutely no inkling of what was in store for him.

_No, Draco, I will never serve the Dark Lord again. But that does not mean you have nothing to fear from me._

"Why did you turn on him?" Draco surprised him by hissing as soon as they were headed for the dungeons. "How could you!"

"I stopped serving him before you were born," Snape informed him. "In the end, there is no power or honor in serving him, only waste."

Draco blinked; he obviously had not expected an honest answer. _For all the good my forthrightness will do you, child. For all the good any of us can do you._

Whatever else could be said of Severus Snape, he was neither a fool nor an idealist. In all likelihood, there would be no preventing Draco Malfoy from following his father's path into the Dark Lord's inner circle. Snape abhorred waste, of talent and of life, but only a fool ran down a road that led nowhere. And Severus Snape was no fool.

As much as it rankled him, there was less hope of saving Draco Malfoy than there was of saving Harry Potter. At least the Dark Lord's hold over Potter went no further than the smear of his blood on a green flame torch and the magical brand of a curse scar.

Draco, Severus knew full well, could not fathom what was in store for him when his father and the Dark Lord called him into their service this year. It would be this year, naturally, it was always this year that they sank their claws in. Draco would not receive the Mark until eighteen, but his service would begin in earnest at sixteen. How many people would the child have to butcher before he proved himself worthy of the Dark Mark?

No, Draco had no inkling of what was in store for him from the Dark Lord. He could not even imagine what was in store for him from Severus Snape.

With that bitter thought, Snape led Draco, one of his House charges—and formerly a personal charge—into his office and the welcoming arms of a very angry werewolf. Draco stopped in his tracks when he saw Lupin. "What's _he_ doing here?"

_Bad form, Draco. If you know for a fact you're facing a mortal enemy, hex first, ask questions later._

Before Malfoy had a chance to react, Snape was behind him, grabbing him by the shoulders and propelling him toward Lupin. _"Silencio!"_ The Defense professor cut off any chance the child had of shouting for help—not that there was anyone to hear him—and the two of them wrestled Draco into a chair.

_No, Albus will not approve. I myself do not even approve._

But he did it. Lupin would gladly have taken care of the more unsavory aspects of the situation, Severus knew that, but holding back in this moment would not diminish his responsibility for the result any more than it had when he had been serving the Dark Lord. His choice was made.

So it was Severus who conjured the ropes that bound the struggling, outraged teenager, and it was he who went to the locked cupboard containing the most valuable and dangerous potions and brought out a vial of Veritaserum. Draco was a very apt Potions student, the most promising Severus had had in a long time; he recognized the stuff at once. He went berserk, kicking and thrashing against the ropes and nearly knocking over the chair in his panic until Lupin seized both boy and chair.

"You have a choice, Malfoy: you're going to answer our questions no matter what, but either you can sit still for your Head of House, or _I_ can hold you still."

Draco fixed wide, horrified eyes on Snape, edging away from the werewolf, and Severus kept his own face expressionless. "You're not going to be harmed, Draco, but Professor Lupin is correct: we _will_ have answers from you. Now don't move."

Lupin kept a tight grip on him, and one look at the werewolf's eyes had Draco frozen in the chair. Snape wouldn't have pegged Lupin for ruthless interrogator, but his behavior at the moment was more than enough to cow the boy.

 _Child, if this is enough to frighten you, you truly cannot be prepared for what you will face as a servant of the Dark Lord._ Not that Lupin was bluffing, of course, Snape knew he was not. If Dumbledore objected to forcing Veritaserum on a sixteen-year-old, he would object far more to leaving Draco in Lupin's clutches for five minutes, given the werewolf's current state of mind.

As it was… "How much?" Lupin asked as Snape approached Draco with the bottle. "Three drops?"

"One," said Severus.

"Will that be enough?"

"To start with." Draco promptly clenched his jaws. Snape knelt in front of him. "I'm only asking you this once: open your mouth." Of course, the boy shook his head. "Lupin?"

The werewolf grabbed Draco's head and slowly pried his mouth open. Draco grunted and struggled, though not as wildly as Potter had that night in the Dark Lord's lair. Snape jerked his mind away from the comparison and drew a single drop of Veritaserum from the bottle with his wand, slipping it between the Draco's teeth. The youth's eyes widened, then clouded a little, although they didn't glaze over the way Barty Crouch's had after receiving a full dose. Severus knew this much would be enough—and honestly could not bring himself to rob Draco of conscious thought.

Severus motioned Lupin away and removed the Silencing Charm. "Where were you during the attack on Hogsmeade?"

Draco hesitated. Having been given the smallest-possible dose, he still retained enough of his awareness to understand what was happening, and what he was about to reveal. "Th-the Shrieking Shack," he said shakily, never taking his eyes off Snape. He was aware enough to feel this final betrayal as well.

"Did you know there would be an attack?" demanded Lupin.

"Yes," he whispered, still staring at Snape. His gray eyes seemed to be plead for his Head of House to put a stop to it. Indeed, the conscience that Severus liked to pretend he didn't have was screaming the same thing.

He forced those thoughts away. _Don't look to me for protection, Draco, I cannot help you now. Whatever your father may have said, you are nothing but his pawn in this game._

"How often are you in contact with your father?" Snape asked him.

Draco went rigid, fighting the question for all he was worth. But in the end, he choked out, "Whenever he wants my help."

"What sort of help?"

"P-passing on messages. Or observing people here."

"To whom do you pass on messages?" asked Lupin.

"Nott, mostly. And Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy and Millicent sometimes. Just word from their parents."

Snape motioned Lupin away and leaned forward. "Where is the Dark Lord's new stronghold?"

The child's face was flushed and sweaty with effort of fighting the drug, to no avail. "The Fortress of Shadows."

"How did he find it?"

Draco shrugged, his shoulders shaking. "He just went looking for it. It let him in."

"How do your father and the Death Eaters reach it?"

"I…no!"

"Give him another drop," said Lupin.

"Wait. Draco, answer me now, or I will. How does your father reach the Fortress of Shadows?" Snape stared into his eyes.

Tears spilled down his face. "The crypt…on the grounds…behind the summer house."

"What crypt? There was no crypt there before," Snape muttered. "Tell me how to use it."

"I…I…don't know!"

"He could be lying." Lupin might as well have been discussing the weather.

"Shut up, Lupin. Tell me, Malfoy. Where does the crypt lead?"

"I…don't…know!" Draco cried. "Only that it's the way to the Fortress!"

"Why did he tell you? Have you ever used it?"

Draco shook his head. "N-no. I can't use it. Not unless my father takes me himself."

"Not even with the Dark Lord's permission?" Snape pressed.

The boy cringed away from him in the chair, but Snape kept his hands on Draco's arms. Draco was gasping for breath. They were close to the answer. "Look at me!" Lupin unceremoniously grabbed the sides of Draco's face and forced him to look at Snape. "Who can enter the crypt to the Fortress?"

"Mmnn…" Draco tried and failed to clench his jaws shut. "Mm…Mark…"

"Mark?" Lupin looked at Severus.

Snape pulled back from the boy and rolled up his sleeve. "The Dark Mark? The Fortress can be entered by anyone wearing the Dark Mark?" Draco sobbed and nodded. "And anyone they bring with them?"

"Y-yes."

"Is that crypt the only entry into the Fortress for Death Eaters?"

"The only one my father's told me about."

Severus sighed heavily. "Very well. That's it, then."

"I hate you!" Draco burst out. "I hate you, I hate you! You filthy traitor!"

_A traitor I am, child. The Dark Lord has made me twice a traitor. Once to humanity, and now to you._

Lupin had returned to his normal, mild-mannered self, and was watching them with pity in his eyes. Severus wanted none of it. "Shall I return Malfoy to his common room?" asked the werewolf.

"No, I'll do it. Go. He cannot know you were here; it will rouse their suspicion." Snape waited until he left, then untied Draco. Gesturing to the small sink, he said quietly, "Wash your face." Draco stared at him for a moment, then obeyed.

"Why did you do that?" Draco muttered. "Why are you doing this? You don't actually think you can harm the Dark Lord there, do you?"

"I'm not going there to harm him. What was the objective of the attack in Hogsmeade?"

"The tunnel under Honeydukes." The Veritaserum was still effective. Draco glared bitterly at him as it forced him to speak. "Wormtail told them about it. They were trying to get into the school."

"For what?"

"I don't know. Something to do with the wards."

"And were they after Potter?"

"No. He had to be at the school. With him sick again, everyone would be in the hospital wing when the attack started."

"He wasn't _supposed_ to be in Hogsmeade?" Snape exclaimed. "This wasn't another kidnapping attempt?"

Draco snorted. "They don't need to kidnap him again. He won't recover this time."

_Ah. So you are involved in this, or at least you know of it and are holding your peace. Tell me, child, is this going to be your first murder?_

Aloud, Severus said nothing, but picked up a bottle of potion to counteract the Veritaserum. "Drink this." Draco narrowed his eyes, but recognized the stuff. After a pause, he swallowed it. Severus watched him and said quietly, "I'm sorry, Draco."

The teenager stared at Snape in disbelief, then let out a bark of bitter laughter. "You are not."

"I am. It merely does not prevent me doing what I must do." Severus aimed his wand, and Draco recoiled, opening his mouth to shout a protest or a countercurse. Too late. _"Obliviate."_

Draco blinked, his face going blank. Severus informed him curtly, "If I find out you _did_ have anything to do with the attack, you and Nott will have Aurors to answer to. Now get back to your dormitory."

With a parting smirk much easier for Severus to face than the frightened, betrayed expression he'd worn only minutes before, Draco departed. Severus waited several minutes until he'd gone, then picked up the Veritaserum to put it away. The bottle shook in his hand, and before he knew what he was doing, he hurled it across the room and watched it shatter against the wall.

* * *

 

Lupin was waiting for him in Dumbledore's office. Albus was expressionless as they sat down, and Severus said, "We have information, Headmaster."

"About the torch, Severus?"

"About the Fortress of Shadows. There is a crypt on Lucius Malfoy's estate that contains an access to it. It can be reached by anyone bearing the Dark Mark. I believe it is possible also for a bearer of the Mark to bring someone who does not. A person without the Mark cannot enter alone."

The headmaster nodded, his eyes penetrating Snape's. _He knows._ Of course. Severus knew not to be surprised; the man knew everything. And no, Albus would never have given permission for Draco to receive such treatment at his teachers' hands. Snape met the headmaster's eyes evenly and waited.

"Do you think you can find this crypt?"

"Yes. Assuming I can enter Malfoy's grounds undetected." _Go on, Albus, ask me how I came into this information._

He didn't. Severus was astonished. Didn't he realize what they had done to Draco Malfoy, a student under their care? Perhaps he was underestimating it. Dumbledore looked down at the surface of his desk and sighed softly. _He does know. My God, he knows exactly what we did to Draco, but_ … "When you reach the Fortress, Severus, a way must be found for you to destroy the green flame torch, and for us to make good your escape again."

"You needn't concern yourself with the latter, Headmaster. The former is by far the most important."

"I disagree," said Albus quietly. "I will not sacrifice you needlessly. Do you know what to do once you reach the torch?"

"I have been working on a potion to effectively neutralize the magical bond. I believe I can complete it quickly."

"You'll need someone to back you," said Lupin.

 _Not you. Anyone but you, Lupin, you'll never have the detachment for this task._ "Have you forgotten the full moon is in two days?"

"Harry has less than two days," said the werewolf. "If we're not back by then, whether or not I've taken Wolfsbane won't matter much."

 _Good point_ , he had to admit. "All the same, perhaps another member of the Order would serve better—"

"—I'm going, Albus," Lupin said flatly. "Send a third person if you must, but I'm going. If destroying the torch is Harry's only chance of surviving, then—"

"I agree, Severus," said Dumbledore. "I will attempt to find a way to draw Voldemort out of the Fortress while you enter, but you should not go alone. I would trust no one at your back more than Remus."

 _Hah! That's a good one._ "As you wish, Headmaster."

"Then we'd better get to work," said Lupin. Severus nearly snorted; the man was starting to sound like him! Well, if the werewolf was going to worry about business instead of mooning around Potter, Severus wasn't going to discourage it. "Shall I assist you with the potion, Severus?"

"No."

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "I think that is an excellent idea. I must contact Alastor and Nymphadora for a suitable distraction. With luck, we can give you several hours." He sighed, looking very tired. "Although it remains to be seen how many hours Harry has."

"Is he worse?" Lupin asked weakly.

Dumbledore nodded. "I am permitting Miss Granger and our young Weasleys to remain in the hospital wing. Minerva has sent for Arthur and Molly. They will want to be here."

"My God," Lupin breathed. "Is it coming to this?"

"It is, Remus. We cannot combat Harry's condition as long as the green flame torch connects him to Voldemort." Dumbledore took a deep breath, as though the words caused him physical pain. "He is dying."

Lupin buried his face in his hands. _Don't go soft again on me now, Lupin, if you're planning on coming_ , Snape thought, and said aloud, "If we're going to work on that potion, we should go now. There's not much time."

Lupin jumped to his feet and followed Severus out of the headmaster's office.

* * *

 

In his private laboratory, Severus had built a second torch, in the same design as the first. Having prepared the first one that would bind the Dark Lord to Potter, he knew how the thing worked: it was yet another blood charm, a magical connection binding the two wizards, allowing the Dark Lord to attack the boy's mind and body at will.

There had to be a way to break that connection. There was _always_ a way to break such a connection. The torch was a conception of Salazar Slytherin himself, but that didn't render it invulnerable. The blood magic that had protected the Potter at his relatives' home at Privet Drive had been far more powerful, and the Dark Lord had overcome that. They would have to overcome this.

Tabletops were scattered with open tomes and jars of potions ingredients, as Severus and Lupin tested mixture after mixture on the second torch. Its flames burned white, unlike the torch in the Dark Lord's possession. And the two wizards grew more and more frustrated as all their efforts failed to put it out.

"What are we missing?" Lupin said at one point, poring over a dusty old text. "Surely a binding agent with Harry's blood would spread to corrupt the purity of the torch charms!"

"Obviously not, because it isn't working," Snape growled, and brought his fist down on another book. "Right. Forget binding Potter's blood, we've tried every conceivable combination, and the boy doesn't have much blood left to spare." Snape had had to go the hospital wing himself to obtain a vial of blood from Potter; the very mention of the idea had turned Lupin green.

Lupin shoved the huge tome aside and picked up a moldy scroll. "Maybe…instead of destroying the connection by contaminating Harry's blood on the torch…perhaps we can corrupt the charm by adding someone else's."

"You mean enough other viable connections that the torch is unable to function?" Snape muttered, snatching the scroll from him.

"Yes. Confusing it."

"Fine. Hold out your hand." The werewolf didn't flinch as Snape pulled out a vial and cut his arm, collecting a small amount of blood. Into a second vial went some of his own. He frowned at them and set them aside. "The torch is powerful. If we fail, this could conceivably bind us all to the Dark Lord. We need more…corruptive agents. Something…less pure."

"You're a pureblood; I'm a half. You're thinking…"

Severus jumped to his feet and threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. "Hospital wing. Hagrid! You're needed in my laboratory!"

The gamekeeper spun into view and clambered from the grate, his face still tear-streaked as Snape had predicted. "Professors. Any luck?"

Lupin went quickly toward him. "Hagrid. We need you to collect some things for us." He listed them off to Hagrid, and the half-giant scrambled for the door.

"In the mean time," said Snape. "Hand me the oil of vitriol. There better not be any chance of that torch being put to use again."

By the time Hagrid returned, carrying a bag full of vials, they had prepared a potion of highly-acidic agents that would effectively melt the green flame torch beyond all hope of restoration once the magical bond was severed. "Bottle yourself a dose of that, Lupin. We'll each be carrying them in case of a problem. Two chances. Assuming we get anywhere near the bloody thing, that is."

"Your confidence is inspiring, Severus."

"Save it," he snapped. To Hagrid, he demanded, "Well?"

"I got 'em, Professor," Hagrid carefully set his bag down. "Professors Flitwick and McGonagall both said they could help. An' this one's mine. This one's from a, er, friend o' mine, an' Professor Dumbledore gave me these. He said…be sure an' use this one."

Among the vials was a tiny crystal globe, that appeared much older than the others. Lupin leaned across the table to stare at it. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Well. Considering the green flame torch comes from a concept of Salazar Slytherin's, blood from this source would certainly throw his magic off. Wait a minute, is this from…"

"That's right, Professor. Headmaster said it's worth it, giving it up."

"Mind enlightening me, Severus?"

Snape picked up the globe, holding it at arm's length. It looked almost like a ruby. "Gryffindor."

"I knew Albus had some of Godric's blood, but where did this come from?"

Firelight winked off the globe's sides. "This is more than merely a relic of Hogwarts history, Lupin," said Severus. "The blood of Godric Gryffindor could be extremely valuable or extremely dangerous in the wrong hands. The headmaster has been guarding it very closely. Until recently, I had no idea where."

"What did this come from? It looks like some kind of ornament."

"It is certainly disguised as one. Gryffindor's sword was left in the keeping of his successors at Hogwarts, as his mark upon the school. Not unlike Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. Dumbledore has been keeping it in the Sorting Hat—or at least he did until Potter pulled it out. This," Severus held up the globe, "was set in the hilt of the sword among the rubies. I doubt anyone who wasn't a headmaster in the past thousand years has had any idea what it was."

"How'd _you_ know, then?" demanded Hagrid.

Severus had to hand it to the half-giant, he wouldn't have thought him so perceptive. "Dumbledore told me three years ago, after the diary incident."

Hagrid whistled appreciatively. "Glad ter hear that. If he trusts yeh that much, I s'pose I can trust yeh with savin' Harry." Severus turned and glared at him, but saw from his face that he wasn't jesting. His eyes were still brimming. "Yeh can save him, can't yeh?"

_For God's sake, man, don't expect miracles out of me. Do I look like Dumbledore? Men wearing the Dark Mark aren't in the business of miracles._

"We'll do our best, Hagrid," whispered Lupin.

Snape turned to find another cauldron. "Stop brooding and get me the bicorn horn, Lupin. We're running out of time."

"Oh, Professor Snape. One other thing my, er, friend gave me, thought it might be useful," Hagrid pointed at a little pouch. "Yeh said hair an' skin'd work too. What about part of a giant?"

Snape paused. "A full-blooded giant?"

"Yeh," Hagrid pulled out what looked like a large piece of cardboard. Severus and Lupin stared at it. "This is a bit of a relic among giants, belonged to me mum. There was a giant named Icklibõgg, one o' the great Gurgs, many hundreds o' years ago. That's his toenail."

"What!" Lupin stifled a laugh.

Snape tossed the pouch at him and turned away in disgust. "Keep your bloody toenails, Hagrid, and leave the useful potions ingredients."

"Jes' tryin' ter help!" Hagrid said, and left.

Snape ignored the disapproving look Lupin shot him as they began preparing the potion again. "We'll have one chance to get this right."

It seemed like it would work. Almost. But as they drew closer to the point of no return, when the blood of Godric Gryffindor would have to be added, Severus could sense something was wrong. "What is it?" asked Lupin.

"This isn't going to work. There's not enough power to destroy the connection."

"What about animal blood?"

"We have that. We even have fur from McGonagall." Snape spat a curse and shook his head. "But all these are still connectors to living beings, except Gryffindor. All we may succeed in doing is binding ourselves to the Dark Lord while the boy dies." Lupin flinched.

"Then we should look for the remains of the no longer living? Hair or bone, perhaps?" the werewolf suggested. "Send Hagrid to raid a cemetery or see what relics Dumbledore might have of the dead?"

"Yes, that could…a relic…oh, for the love of…" With a disgusted growl, Severus stalked over to the fireplace again to throw in a handful of Floo powder. "Hagrid! Get back here and bring that bloody toenail of…whatever his name is!"

* * *

 

Snape and Lupin each carried two vials of potion inside their robes as they headed to the headmaster's office. "Remember," he told Lupin, "the blood potion first, _then_ the black."

"You don't have to tell me twice, Severus," Lupin muttered. They walked through the door.

"You have the potions?" asked Albus without preamble.

 _My God, we ARE running out of time._ The headmaster appeared to have aged a hundred years in the past few hours. Severus knew why. "Potter's condition?"

"Worsening. It's a matter of hours," Albus sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "I've spoken with Alastor. He and a squad of Aurors are planning a small event which, along with my presence there, should be enough to draw Voldemort out of the Fortress for a time. How much time, I cannot say."

"We'll manage," said Severus. "We'll move as soon as you've gone."

"Good. One other thing, Severus, I have been considering how best to keep track of the two of you. Once the link of the torch has been destroyed and the crypt has been used, it may be far more difficult for the two of you to escape."

"That's a risk we're prepared to take," said Lupin quietly.

Albus studied them over his spectacles. "All the same, I have thought of an additional way to track you to the Fortress. It may even come in handy in pinpointing its location." Snape and Lupin looked at each other curiously. "Severus, have you that torch you've been using to test your potions?"

Severus blinked. "Excellent idea, Albus," said the portrait of Phineas Nigellus. "Impale the bastard on his own sword!" Whatever his own thoughts on the purity of blood, Nigellus had taken it very hard when one of the Dark Lord's servants had killed his great-great-great-grandson.

"I can get it," Severus said, and headed for the fireplace. He collected the torch from his laboratory and returned. "I presume you wish to activate it?"

"With your consent, of course," said Albus gently, but in a way that reminded Severus that he himself had tied Draco Malfoy to a chair and forced him to swallow Veritaserum only hours ago.

And yet… "If he doesn't want to, you can do it on me," said the werewolf.

 _Don't flatter yourself, Lupin._ "No need," Snape growled. "I'm perfectly willing. You will be at the other end of the spell, Headmaster?"

"Yes. Are you ready, then?"

"Let's do it." Severus produced a small knife from his belt (a spy on the Dark Lord accustomed himself to carrying around a wide variety of implements) and cut his hand, realizing only after he'd done it that the slice across his palm was identical to the one the Dark Lord had given Potter. Albus did the same, and they sealed the charm with their hands upon the torch. This time, the flames were blood red.

Albus met Snape's eyes as they stepped away from the torch, the red light reflected in his spectacles. "If you and Remus should find yourself unable to leave the Fortress in the same way you arrived, make for the mountain. It is beyond the Shadows' power, and may provide you with some safety until we can reach you. I will be waiting." He took Severus's hand in his, and extended the other one to Lupin, who took it as well. "Good luck. Be careful. Trust each other."

"Take care yourself, Albus," said Lupin quietly. "And if anything should happen, you know what to tell Harry?"

"Of course."

"Take care of him."

 _Yes, yes, Lupin, now shut up and let the man get on with our distraction!_ Aloud, Snape said only, "Good luck, Headmaster."

"Thank you, Severus." Albus handed them a sugar bowl. "This portkey will take you to the summerhouse of Malfoy Manor. It will activate in precisely three minutes, by which time I hope to be engaging Tom in conversation."

"Understood."

"Farewell, both of you." With that, Albus threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and spun away, leaving Severus and Lupin standing in his office for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Severus felt the portkey activate, and the two of them were pulled away in a whirl of color and sound.


	26. The Fortress of Shadows

Albus had somehow managed to deposit them directly in the bushes lining the summerhouse. How he had been able to overcome the vast variety of magical protections, wards, and enchantments upon Malfoy Manor, Severus would dearly have loved to know, but at the moment, there was no time to wonder. What mattered was getting into that crypt and figuring out how to get into the Fortress without landing right in the laps of whatever guards the Dark Lord had left behind.

Lupin had the good sense to keep his mouth shut. They moved in silence, close together, low to the ground, around the summerhouse.

Severus had been on this estate many times before, even in the summerhouse itself, nestled in a copse of trees some distance from the main house. The perfect place for carrying on intrigues, Lucius had always joked. Severus himself had set up shop here several times, working on potions for the Dark Lord, even back when he'd been a willing participant. It was a good, quiet place to work and think.

But obviously some new feature had been added; Severus spied a small, stone structure hidden in a thick patch of shrubbery that had never been there before. Mosses hung from its side, and its stone looked very old and worn, not at all like the scrubbed, spotless stones of Malfoy Manor. Severus motioned Lupin behind him, and stepped toward it.

For the first time, Lupin spoke up. "You know, it has occurred to me that this could be a trap."

"You think so?"

"I don't know either way. What do you think?"

"About the fact that anyone with the Dark Mark can supposedly enter the Fortress of Shadows, even though I am a known traitor still bearing it? Yes, it could be a trap. But how would I have access to that information."

"Would they think you capable of administering Veritaserum on a student?"

"On a student, yes. Draco, no." _And do NOT ask._

To Snape's intense relief, Lupin didn't. "So what's your conclusion?"

"Fifty-fifty chance. They would have to believe me willing not merely to betray them but to assault the Fortress directly, and in person for that information to be effective. It seems unlikely, but…the Dark Lord has set more complicated traps then that. However, we've little choice. I intend to proceed. You are welcome to turn back."

He looked challengingly over his shoulder at Lupin. _Are you prepared to follow me into the snake den, werewolf?_

He really should have expected the answer he got. "Harry is all I have left; I'll save him or die trying."

Snape snorted. Gryffindor theatrics. _Perhaps you'd do me the favor of doing both._ He took Lupin's arm. "Then let's see how this contraption works." Slowly, leading the un-Marked Lupin along, he stepped into the inky blackness of the crypt.

* * *

 

The crypt was not a crypt at all on the inside. They found themselves in a very dark tunnel, damp, cold, and musty, with dark power seeming to ooze from the walls like so much slime. Looking back over their shoulders, they found a dead end of stone. _Well. That was simple enough. I doubt it will be so coming out._ Severus jerked his head at Lupin. _Let's go._

They drew their wands and started off into the dark. Lupin caught Snape's eye and motioned quietly around them, pulling his face into a grimace. Snape knew what he was trying to say: _no guards._

_This is looking less and less promising by the moment._

But they were here, and there was no choice but to proceed. Perhaps the Dark Lord's confidence would be to their advantage here. (Not likely, but perhaps.) After all, Severus worked as a spy against very long odds for a long time. Unlikely was a word he survived by.

Lupin suddenly froze, grabbing Snape's arm. Severus went instantly still, sensing what had already reached Lupin. The werewolf's nature might be more of a liability most times, especially with him weakening so close to the full moon, but the superior senses, Severus could live with. Lupin had felt the minute vibrations or heard the faint echoes of footsteps before any other human could have.

Including the ones currently approaching from somewhere in the darkness ahead. They had to get out of this corridor, and fast.

Scooting automatically to the wet, slimy wall, Severus began slinking as swiftly as he could ahead. Their only chance of avoiding a very vocal discovery was to find a hiding place ahead, even though the corridor was taking them toward the sounds. Severus could hear them now—but whoever it was, they were not making any attempt at stealth.

Perhaps overconfidence really was on Dumbledore's side tonight.

Judging by the echoes, the walkers ahead were somewhere around a corner, perhaps more than one corner. Severus sped up, trusting Lupin to keep pace, and searched the side walls frantically. They could hear voices now:

"Did he say Dumbledore was there as well?"

"What are they playing at?"

"I don't know, but the Dark Lord is going to deal with it. Dumbledore can't escape him forever."

"I'll sleep easier when the old codger's dead."

They were close. Snape exchanged glances with Lupin. _Any ideas?_ Lupin mouthed.

Severus pressed himself back against the wall and—fell through it. A startled Lupin dove through behind him. They found themselves in another corridor, branching off from the one they'd been in. Severus frowned to himself. He couldn't imagine the Fortress of Shadows (a more apt title was never bestowed) having Rooms or Corridors of Requirement. He ran his mind back through where they had been, and suddenly recalled: when he had leaned against the corridor wall, his Mark had touched it.

He and Lupin continued creeping swiftly through the inky darkness, Severus with his forearm dragging along the damp walls in search of hidden openings. What felt like an eternity passed, and they were no closer to locating the torch. Severus glanced over his shoulder and saw Lupin also beginning to look frustrated. He agreed; they were running out of time.

They had been attempting to make their way through without magic, but Severus decided that if Death Eaters were strolling through the halls chatting about battles going on, they must think themselves very secure indeed.

_And no wonder, seeing as we have been wandering in the dark for an hour and haven't the faintest idea where the torch is or where we even happen to be._

Enough was enough. Severus drew his wand. " _Reperio_ ," he whispered, thinking of Lucius Malfoy. Surely if the Dark Lord had gone in person to chase after Dumbledore, he would leave either Malfoy or Bellatrix Lestrange in charge.

He was in luck: a ball of green light emerged from the wand and began floating ahead of them. He and Lupin hurried after it, ducking through walls that turned out to be corridors and up staircases so steep they seemed to defy the laws of physics. And always up.

Severus supposed it was to be expected that the Dark Lord would have that torch of his secreted at the very top of this bloody temple. Both of them were breathing heavily when they finally spotted light coming down from the top of one of the stairways. _This is it_ , Severus mouthed at Lupin. He ended the Seek Spell, and they crept more slowly upward.

Voices were drifting through the doorway at the top. Severus recognized Lucius Malfoy's. "Place your wagers, gentlemen!"

"Two hours, Lucius."

"Four."

"You're mad, Goyle, look at him! He won't last three!"

Severus looked quickly at Lupin; he was now moving very stiffly, a look in his eyes even darker than what Severus had seen the day Fudge tried to take Potter. This look promised murder for the speakers in the room atop the stairs. Casting wagers on how long it would take a werewolf's cub to die…that lot would be lucky not to get their throats ripped out.

On the other hand, concentrating on more pressing matters, Severus had heard three voices speaking, and their jovial tones indicated the absence of the Dark Lord. Even on those rare occasions when he was in a good mood, the Dark Lord's followers never relaxed in his presence. So at least three people were up there, perhaps more. _At least it's a safe assumption Bella isn't there. She'd be laughing loudest of all—probably._

Severus and Lupin were pressed against the walls as they gained the top of the stairs. Lupin's nostrils flared, no doubt employing the werewolf senses that were growing with the approaching full moon, and he raised a hand to Snape: four fingers. Four Death Eaters: Malfoy, Goyle, Rookwood from the sound of it, and a fourth who had not spoken. And there was no way of knowing how many more were in this dark temple beyond that chamber.

But the light streaming into the stairwell flickered faintly green; all that mattered was the torch. Even with Dumbledore's efforts, the odds of either of them making it back out of the Fortress alive were not exactly favorable. Severus braced himself, saw Lupin do the same, and peered into the room.

Just in time for Rookwood to look up. "OY!"

Snape and Lupin sprang through the doorway, already taking aim as the black-robed wizards leapt to their feet. _"Petrificus Totalis!"_ Lupin yelled, sending Lucius toppling over.

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_ Severus removed Rookwood from the Dark Lord's ranks permanently.

Goyle dove for cover behind a stone bench, and the fourth Death Eater, Dolohov, vanished through a second doorway into the darkness. _Damn!_

But Lupin was keeping Goyle pinned down, and they had at least a few seconds until Dolohov brought reinforcements. Severus was facing a wide stone window, from which a cold, damp fog had drifted in, flickering green from a source of light behind him. Turning quickly, he headed for a raised section of floor where the green flame torch burned—with the apparition of a pallid, fever-wracked teenager lying just in front of it. From the look of things, Rookwood had been right: unless the torch was destroyed and the link to the Dark Lord severed, Harry Potter would not survive three more hours.

Blasting a chunk of stone from Goyle's bench shield, Lupin yelled, "Do it!"

Severus reached into his robes and pulled out the two vials. Uncorking the red one, he stepped past Potter's translucent form to stand directly in front of the torch. Raising the red vial, he intoned, "Flesh and blood of living and dead, of beast and man, of magic and mundane, mingle now with this blood spell and make it impure, let all bonds be severed, all links broken, let the dark chain be shattered!"

He raised the blood potion and smashed the entire vial through the green flames into the bowl of the torch. There was a cry of agony that sent him spinning around; the apparition of Harry Potter was flickering as the potion took effect, but the boy was writhing and screaming in pain. The racket had distracted Goyle long enough for Lupin to stun him, and the werewolf was visibly restraining himself from touching Potter.

Blood-red sparks were roaring from the green flames, and a streak of dazzling light emanated from each side—right where Potter and the Dark Lord's blood had been smeared. Then it seemed to ooze off the torch metal, and the green flames died for good as blood spattered to the floor. A splash of black potion sent the torch slumping toward the stones like a melting candle.

Snape let out the breath he'd been holding. It had worked. It had actually worked. Whatever came next, they had succeeded in what mattered—"Severus!"

At Lupin's horrified gasp, Severus turned and froze: no. _No._

Something had gone wrong. Horribly, catastrophically wrong.

Lying upon the cold, damp stones of the Fortress of Shadows, the headquarters of the Dark Lord in this haven of black magic was Harry Potter—as real and solid as Lupin and Severus. His face was pasty and sweaty with fever, and he was moaning softly, obviously still violently ill even though the Dark Lord's ability to continue afflicting him from a distance had been neutralized. And the odds of even the two hale and healthy wizards in the room making it out of this place alive were slim!

Severus stared in disbelief. "Bloody hell. What now?" he muttered.

Lupin shook off his own shock and despair and tore his eyes from the boy. "Let's move, Severus. Dying here is no longer an option."

He was pocketing his wand and reaching toward the boy when an unearthly howl made them both freeze in surprise, then a gleeful voice from the entryway they had come by shrieked, _"Expositum Bestia!"_

A jet of white light—like moonlight—hit Lupin directly in the face and seemed to spread to surround his body. The man barely had time to cry, "NO!"before he shuddered and twisted out of human form.

Bellatrix Lestrange giggled, her wand in one hand and some kind of leather strap in the other. "Hope he enjoys his dinner!" she said to Snape, and ducked out of sight as he threw a frantic curse at her. Then he heard her grunting and struggling with something; whatever dark creature she had on that leash, it was at least keeping her occupied.

Severus turned around and froze where he was as the werewolf took shape. "Shit!" The creature was two feet from the helpless boy, already looking down at him. No hex worked on a werewolf; Severus knew that from experience. Even if he managed to throw himself in front of Potter, there would be no one left to take the boy to safety. In desperation, he grabbed the half-melted green flame torch and lunged forward, swinging it wildly.

The werewolf yelped in pain as the hard metal struck him in the face, but then he swiped at Severus, who barely had time to raise the torch to protect himself before he was flung into a wall. The torch clattered through the doorway, and from the sound of it, hit Bella and sent her crashing down the stairs. Snape was trying to clamber back to his feet, despairing, as the werewolf returned its attention to the defenseless Potter.

As it started back toward the boy, the mist drifting in from the forest seemed to swirl between the creature and its prey. Before Severus had a chance to gasp, the haze coalesced into the form of a woman with long hair, her arms stretched out from her sides like an ancient gatekeeper, barring the werewolf's path. The creature faltered, its growl changing to a yelp of surprise, and another figure appeared in the mist, kneeling beside the boy.

Snape swallowed hard at the sight of James and Lily Potter, trying to make objective sense of it all. Apparently, the effects of the Pillar of Storgé were much more lingering than he had realized. James touched Harry's face, and the boy's fitful moans died at once. Then, as Severus had been dreading, the shade turned and looked at him.

 _Why are you looking at me like that!_ he thought, trying to escape the feelings churning in his stomach by taking refuge in anger. _Why can't you leave me in peace; what could you possibly want from me now?_

It was a rhetorical question, of course. Severus knew precisely what James Potter wanted.

In the meantime, the werewolf was, astonishingly, backing away from the ghostly woman. He cowered from her outstretched hand, then the monster's form shrank back into a man's, and Lupin sagged to the ground, staring in shock at the shade before him. _"Lily!"_

Both shades smiled at him and vanished back into the mist. Snape crossed the floor and hurriedly assisted Lupin to his feet. "Come on. Lestrange will be back soon."

"What—was—that?" he groaned, peering out the window into the fog.

"Imprints from the Pillar of Storgé—come _on,_ Lupin!"

The man staggered to his feet, turned back toward the dais—and froze, staring past Snape's shoulder with absolute disbelief on his face. "Oh my God!"

 _Bloody hell, NOW what!_ Severus turned as well, and felt his innards turn to mush. It was not possible. It was… _not…possible!_

It _couldn't_ be possible!

But there it was.

The shade of James Potter must have imparted some strength into his ailing son, for a moment ago, Severus wouldn't have expected the boy to be able to lift a finger.

He was lifting his hand now, his eyes still glassy and bright with illness, but there was a weak smile on Harry Potter's face as he stroked the neck of a huge, black, bear-like dog. Standing over Potter, the animal looked thin and bedraggled, trailing a leather leash from a solid metal collar around its neck. But it nudged and licked the boy's hand as though it were his best friend.

Lupin started forward; Severus came to his senses and grabbed the man's arm. "Lupin. That's not Black. That _cannot possibly_ be Black."

To his relief, the werewolf's brains hadn't been addled by Bella's spell _or_ Lily Potter's shade. Lupin shuddered once and pulled out his wand, aiming at the dog. "Get away from him! Get away!"

The dog looked up and whined piteously, but when Lupin started menacingly toward it, it scurried away. The boy moaned in groggy protest, reaching after it. Severus kept his own wand trained on the animal (ignoring the niggling little thought that for an animal, it seemed to recognize wand threats rather well) as Lupin crossed the floor and swept Potter into his arms. "Where do we go from here?"

The dog barked once. As they watched, it ran to the second doorway, the one Dolohov had taken, then looked back at them and wagged its tail. Lupin hesitated and whispered, "Severus…" in a voice fairly shaking with hope.

Severus Snape, former Death Eater, was not in the business of hope. And even if he were, he would not be hoping for this. "Lupin, use your head. It's _not—_ "

"It looks _exactly_ like him!"

Potter wasn't helping; still stirring in the werewolf's arms and moaning, "Sirius…" Lupin's eyes filled.

"Black is _dead,_ Lupin," Snape hissed savagely. "This could easily be a trick!" _Damn it, man, come to your senses! Do you want the boy to survive this or not!_

Lupin shook his head. "Fine. Then do we follow his—its—lead or not?"

"We—"

Feet were pounding up the stairs that Bellatrix had fallen down. The two of them looked at each other, then Lupin muttered, "Lead on, Snuffles," and headed for the second door. Snape followed, gritting his teeth.

The dog led them down yet another flight of stairs, steep and dark. Severus listened hard for any signs of pursuit behind or ambush ahead, not trusting Lupin to think clearly anymore. But the only sounds were their frantic steps and the dog's panting. _That CANNOT be Black!_

Off the narrow stairs, they were racing around a corner into a downward-sloping corridor when the dog suddenly turned and snapped its jaws at them. "What—" Lupin began, but the dog scurried up to the wall and whined softly.

It was then that they heard running footsteps again, in a branch of corridor very close. The dog had heard them first; his yellow eyes gleamed at them in the dark as they huddled low against the wall to let the searchers pass. The dog bared its teeth at Snape, a look that might almost be described as smug. _No. NO. It is…not…Black!_

Potter suddenly moaned, making both men and dog jump, and he strained in Lupin's arms. "Sirius…"

The dog sidled closer to Lupin, its eyes fixed on the boy, but Lupin put a hand on Potter's forehead and whispered, _"Durmius."_ Potter went limp and silent, and the dog whined very softly before starting back down the corridor again, its head hangng.

As they walked, Lupin murmured, "Severus…Harry reported that Voldemort and the others were performing some kind of experimental spell on the veil in the Death Chamber."

Merlin's beard. He'd forgotten about that. What _had_ this "test" involved? And how could Bellatrix…the dog had heard Lupin. It turned to the werewolf and let out an excited yip, wagging its tail.

Severus swore savagely under his breath, thinking, _Merlin's bloody beard, does no one have the decency to STAY DEAD anymore!_ Lupin made a strangled noise, blinking rapidly.

"Keep your head, man," Snape muttered. The dog bared its teeth at him. They had come to a bare stretch of wall. The dog yipped again, this time at Snape, and nudged the wall with its nose. Snape glowered at it. "What is it you want?"

The dog growled, but walked over to Severus, reared up on its hind legs and very deliberately smacked his left arm with a paw. Then it stalked back over to the wall and nudged it again. Snape sighed. Even with all the spells and Dark Arts (and creativity) at the Death Eaters' disposal, it seemed a rather remote possibility that they would have taught this dog how to explain to Snape how to use his Dark Mark to open a hidden passage.

"Sirius!" Lupin choked out. The dog whined again, looking not at the werewolf, but at the unconscious boy in his arms. When it looked at Potter, its yellow eyes seemed almost human.

Cursing under his breath, Severus stormed over to the wall and pressed the Dark Mark against it. Another corridor appeared, with light at the end. "Let's go."

They broke into a jog, smelling dap, rotting vegetation ahead instead of mold and stone. "Sirius," whispered Lupin as he shifted Potter. "We have to find the mountain."

The dog actually nodded, wagging his tail, and ran ahead, darting past the end of the corridor into a broad entryway, with dark boles of trees visible without. But then there was a shout of female laughter, followed by a gleeful shriek of, _"Crucio!"_

Lupin swore furiously, pulling quickly to the side of the corridor with Potter as the dog howled piteously and collapsed. Jeers and Bellatrix Lestrange's shrieks of laughter echoed in the stone walls, eventually dying down to the point where the dog's whimpers made Lupin press his face into the boy's hair. "What's this, doggy?" Bella cooed. "Trying to get out again? Oohhh, did your friends not trust you to lead them? Did they leave you all alone? Poor little thing! _Crucio!_ "

As the howling filled the corridor again, Snape caught Lupin's eyes and moved in front of them, his wand ready. The only chance they had was to get past Bella and her lackeys into the Forest where the shadows _might_ shield them long enough to make their escape to the mountain. Assuming they were headed in the mountain's direction. _And hope the dog is able to follow so Lupin doesn't have a coronary._

At the moment, the werewolf was standing behind Severus with a frantic expression, his gaze darting from the entryway where the dog was to the unconscious teenager in his arms. He knew what it might come down to. But Snape braced himself and saw Lupin do the same. When the Cruciatus Curse was shouted a third time, and the dog's howls and Death Eaters' laughter filled the air, Snape struck.

Leaping into the corridor, he launched curses at every black robe he saw, buying Lupin an opening to sprint across the entryway with Potter. The werewolf gained the trees just as Bellatrix and Dolohov recovered and counter-attacked, forcing Snape to back off his own scramble for the exit. The dog lay whimpering on the stones. "How did you get here?" Dolohov sneered.

"A little bird told me," Snape replied.

"Dumbledore's little bird. So that's what the Auror attack was about. _Stupefy!_ And Dumbledore risking himself to draw the Dark Lord from here. Tut-tut. _Crucio!_ He won't be pleased with you, Severus."

As the effort of dodging and shielding against their combined efforts began to wear him down, Snape gritted his teeth. All that mattered was Lupin getting to the mountain with Potter—although they probably had less than twenty-four hours before the full moon. Severus suspected that for himself, this was it, as a curse caught him in the side and threw him to the ground, his wand rolling toward the exit.

Bellatrix squealed like a schoolwitch in Honeydukes and started toward him. "Our master's rage over this disaster may be blunted quite a bit when we present you to him! You've been a very bad boy, Sev—AAUUUGH!"

The dog had been weakly crawling to its feet while Dolohov and Bellatrix concentrated on dueling Snape, but as Bellatrix moved in for the coup de grâce, it gathered itself and leapt directly onto her, snarling savagely. She toppled over, screaming, as Dolohov jumped back in surprise and tried to hex the dog without hitting her, and Severus seized his chance. He staggered to his feet and lunged for the exit, grabbing his wand as he went, then ran for all he was worth into the trees.

"Severus!" hissed a voice, and he found Lupin waiting with Potter in his arms.

"You should have gone, you fool!" he said furiously, grabbing the werewolf by the arm and pulling him along.

"Wait!" Lupin said frantically, looking back at the Fortress entrance. "What about Sirius!" The dog's savage barks and snarls could still be heard, along with Bellatrix's screams and Dolohov's apparently-ineffective curses.

"There's no time!" Snape hissed, pulling at him again. Lupin still faltered, so Severus yanked as hard as he could, forcing the man to look at him. "We can't wait for him!" He glanced over his shoulder, and felt a rush of real, honest relief, and some funny little twinge that might have been hope: above the black canopy, he could just see the silver glow of a mountain, rising beyond the forest's edge, a long-but-not-impossible walk away. He looked back at Lupin, who was still staring at the pyramid slope of the Fortress of Shadows.

"Lupin, are you prepared to sacrifice Potter for Black, assuming that is in fact him?" Lupin recoiled, mute horror on his face. Severus seized that weapon and drove it home. "We have no time for this! The boy or the dog, Lupin! Choose now!"

The man's face crumpled, and he looked back once more at the entry, visibly willing the dog to come bounding out now. But then, with a stifled groan of actual pain, he turned away, shifted Potter's limp form in his arms, and broke into a run through the trees. Snape kept pace with him in spite of the pain in his side from Dolohov's jinx, and they dashed away from from the Fortress into the silence of the Forest of Shadows, the only sound coming from their pounding feet and Lupin's ragged, stifled sobs.


	27. The Mountain of Fantasy, Part One

Severus and Lupin had no idea what potential threats or traps the Forest of Shadows might have in store for them as they sprinted beneath its canopy, but in some silent, mutual agreement, they decided that no dark creature or ancient magic lurking in the Forest could deliver a fate worse than Harry Potter winding up back in the hands of the Dark Lord. Potter was still unconscious, either due to Lupin's Sleeping Charm or lingering effect of the illness. At least they could be certain the Dark Lord could no longer affect the boy physically from a distance. On the other hand, they were now running like mad through a cold, damp forest with a sick child still clad in damp clothes and bare feet. Yes, _that_ was certainly conducive to Potter's health!

But they ran on, both staggering and exhausted, each in pain from assorted injuries, with the knowledge of what would befall themselves, the boy, and the entire wizarding world if they should fail weighing them down like lead weights around their necks. They made little attempt at stealth; it was a foregone conclusion that the Forest itself would be on the side of the Dark Lord if they were caught, so their only chance was to beat the Death Eaters to the mountain.

Neither man had any real idea what magical properties the mountain possessed, but it was a well-known legend as old as the Fortress's unknown creators that those who had been able to escape it might find refuge on the mountain. And that was as good a plan as any.

Beside Severus, Lupin grunted and staggered, nearly dropping his burden. Snape slowed, exhausted himself, but the werewolf looked nearly spent. And there was another problem: what to do if they were still out here in twenty-four hours when the full moon rose. Lupin would have to separate from them, and Severus would have to find somewhere to secret himself and the boy and hope the werewolf wouldn't find them.

Still, one thing at a time, and all that. He could worry about that tomorrow night after they'd gone about the business of surviving tonight. Severus stopped Lupin and said quietly, "Give him to me."

Lupin blinked, his grip tightening on the boy. "I can manage," he said.

 _Heaven save me from werewolves with paternal instinct!_ "For God's sake, man, you can barely stay upright. Your bloody moon rises tomorrow, let me carry Potter!" Snape growled. Heaving an annoyed sigh, he added tightly, "I won't eat him."

Apparently, that had been the foremost concern on Lupin's mind. But he could not deny Snape's logic, and slowly nodded, kneeling to carefully shift the unconscious boy from his own arms to Snape's. Severus frowned to himself; Potter was much lighter than he'd thought—much, much lighter than a healthy sixteen-year-old ought to be. It was easier than expected to shift the boy's weight so he could rise and continue walking; feeling Lupin's eyes on him, he did so gently. What did the man think, that Severus was going to start torturing the child the moment his back was turned? Glaring at the werewolf, he continued at a walk. They wouldn't be able to run all the way to the mountain anyway.

"How much further, do you think?" Lupin said quietly.

Snape craned his neck to gauge the proximity of the silver slopes, and the stars above it. "We may reach it by dawn, assuming we aren't waylaid."

"Then what?"

"I don't know."

To his surprise, Lupin had been thinking about the approaching dilemma as well. "In any case, if we haven't made it out of here by tomorrow night, I'll leave Harry with you and get as lost as I can before moonrise."

"You might do well to return to the Forest so you can harass any pursuers we may have."

"I haven't seen any signs," said Lupin, then he chorused with Snape, "yet." Snape scowled as the werewolf grinned, and looked at the boy again. He was still completely motionless, and Severus could feel the heat of fever from his body. But he did not appear to have any difficulty breathing, and his pulse was steady. "How is he?"

Snape returned his gaze to the trees ahead and shrugged. "Stable for now."

As they trudged on, Lupin said, "Severus…Harry cannot be told about Sirius."

Severus scowled into the darkness. "We don't even know for certain that the dog _was_ Black."

"It was." Lupin sounded as if the words caused him physical pain. "I wasn't certain at first, but…it was. And I left him." He drew in a shaky breath. "Harry can't know."

Severus glanced at him. "What's the matter, afraid your cub will forget all about you now that the mongrel's alive?"

"Drop it for once, Severus!" Lupin snapped. "Lestrange and Voldemort may well kill Sirius before any attempt can be made to save him! Harry _cannot_ know he's their prisoner; you and I both know it would destroy him!"

Their feet rustled over rotting vegetation for several moments before Severus answered, "Relax, Lupin, I won't tell the boy. The last thing we need is him gallivanting off on some other madcap rescue attempt."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lupin shake his head. "Harry loves Sirius. And after all the time you've spent picking at his memories, you know full well what he's gone through since…Sirius's death."

"And what is your point? His decision was still reckless and ill-conceived."

"Because he was willing to die to save Sirius? You and I both made that choice for Harry."

"Potter is a child," Snape said impatiently. Why were they having this conversation?

But Lupin replied, "Harry has lived through more than someone Dumbledore's age."

"Is there a point to this, Lupin?" Severus snapped. "You know perfectly well my opinion of the boy; your doting is not going to change it."

To his greater annoyance, Lupin merely chuckled. "Of course not. But again, Severus, you are not as inscrutable as you would like to think; I wouldn't dream of trying to sway any firm opinion of yours. Fortunately, your opinion of Harry is not nearly so firm as it used to be."

Severus nearly stopped in his tracks, glaring first at Lupin, but then unintentionally glancing down at the boy. "What are you talking about?"

"You and Sirius have something in common, you know. You both have a tendency to mix up your feelings for Harry with your feelings for his father."

Snape's mouth opened in outrage, but he could not seem to form a single coherent thought to express it. That Lupin would even _suggest_ a similarity between himself and that bloody, too-arrogant-to-even-stay-dead mongrel was bad enough, but… "You…he…that arrogant little…Potter…"

"Of which Potter are you speaking, Severus?" Lupin asked blithely. His gaze softened as it fell on the boy. "I've seen you watching him since Washington. He is nothing like James at this age. And you're starting to see that at last, aren't you?"

Severus gritted his teeth and kept walking.

* * *

 

They saw no signs of Death Eaters all night long, but neither was willing to believe that the Dark Lord's forces were not pursuing them. Which begged the question, where were they? As the sky turned gray with approaching dawn, the Forest of Shadows began to thin, almost as if it was wilting toward the edge where the mountain rose up nearest to it. On one hand, this meant that the dark magic which supposedly permeated the Forest was waning; on the other hand, Severus and Lupin had to quicken their pace, feeling exposed in the thinning trees.

The first rays of sunlight erupted defiantly over the Forest's canopy as the two men reached the silver-gray foot of the mountain and began to walk uphill. Severus, anticipating Lupin's inquiry, examined Potter. "There's been little change." He shook his head as they moved out of the cover of the trees; it felt as though something heavy had been lifted away. Fortunately, the slope was not too terribly steep.

"Should we stop and find shelter? See if he improves?" Lupin asked.

Snape looked at the boy again. He was stable for now, but what would hours of continued travel in open, chilly air do? Glancing over his shoulder, Severus eyed the black-green canopy of the Forest of Shadows and the dark gray pyramid hulk of the Fortress rising above it like a gateway to hell. Which, in many respects, it was. He looked up at the mountain before them and sighed. "We'll stop. Keep your eyes open for a cave or any suitable shelter."

It was only minutes before they stumbled across the first cave, but Severus insisted on going further, to prevent them from being easily tracked by Death Eaters. After another hour or so, they discovered the entrance to a cave nearly concealed on the rough, craggy slope by a well-placed boulder. Lupin investigated, and pronounced it safe, so in they went. It was a bare, open chamber in the mountainside, large enough to stand easily, with room for air to move properly. Lupin conjured smokeless fire on the bare stone as Severus laid Potter on the cave floor.

"I wonder if Albus will be able to reach us yet."

"It is possible. At least he is aware that I am alive, and should realize that if I am, so is Potter."

Lupin draped his worn cloak on the ground and eased the boy onto it, conjuring a blanket to cover him. Potter did not stir. "They must be frantic, wondering what happened."

"Dumbledore is not a fool; he will have realized by now what happened," Severus replied, reaching inside his own robes to see if he had any other potions left. Luck was with him; the vials of Restorative Draught and Fever Reducing Potion had survived intact.

"That doesn't mean they won't be worried." Lupin frowned at Severus. "How _did_ this happen? Why did Harry appear here?"

Severus sat back in front of the fire and thought. "We had assumed the torch was nothing more than a conduit, a relay for a connection between the Dark Lord and Potter. Obviously Potter was more strongly connected to the torch itself than we realized. When the link was severed, he appeared fully in the place where the torch was."

Lupin pulled a face. "I suppose one of us should have thought of that."

"Too late." Severus looked from the vials of potion to the boy. "Wake him if you can. If we're going to move again, these draughts need to be in him."

"I'll try." Lupin knelt beside Potter and began rubbing his back gently. "Harry? Harry, can you hear me? Can you wake up? Come on." After a moment, the boy stirred, eyelids fluttering against his pale face. Lupin kept up the litany until Potter's eyes opened.

"Mm? Wha…where…where am I?"

"You're safe," Lupin told him, rubbing the boy's forehead and shooting Severus a look that clearly said, _I hope._

Potter turned his face toward the werewolf. "Remus? What's going on? I had…oddest dream."

Lupin forced a smile, still petting him. "I'm not surprised. You gave us quite a scare."

"Where are we?" Potter mumbled. His glassy gaze traveled over the cave walls, the fire, and came to rest on Severus.

"We're in a cave on the mountain beyond the Forest of Shadows. We brought you out of the Fortress," Lupin said.

The boy's eyes widened, and he actually tried to sit up. "Remus—"

"Harry! Easy, there!" Lupin exclaimed, holding him still. "You've been seriously ill."

"But, wait, you don't under—I saw…" the boy babbled. Lupin shot Snape a desperate glance, but Potter trailed off, his face falling. "Or was…was it a dream? I can't…I thought…Sirius…" he shook his head in groggy confusion.

Lupin looked appealingly at Severus, who rolled his eyes. _Can't bear to lie outright to your cub, so Big Bad Snape has to do it._ Nonetheless, he said aloud, "You have been confused for almost two days, Potter. You were dreaming."

Potter blinked at him, visibly deflating. Looking up at Lupin, he misinterpreted the werewolf's hunched shoulders and lowered head. "Oh. I guess…sorry."

"Don't apologize, Harry," Lupin said quietly.

Snape pushed the vials toward them. "Give him all of these."

Taking a deep breath, Lupin nodded and lifted Potter into a sitting position. The boy was too weak to even complain about being treated like an invalid—which made sense, seeing that he was. He swallowed the various potions with his head resting on Lupin's shoulder. "Are we…home soon?" he mumbled drowsily.

"Just as soon as you're up to it," Lupin said, putting an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Try and rest. Everything will be fine."

"Mm…wish…hadn't been…dream. Thought I…saw…Sirius…" Potter drifted off as Lupin rested his cheek against the boy's hair, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Get a grip on yourself," Snape muttered irritably. The whole scene was so cloying it turned his stomach. For every parent/surrogate parent of Potter's that bought it, there seemed to always be three or four fighting for the honor of replacing them.

Silence descended. Potter was so heavily asleep that Severus doubted he would have heard a bomb go off. Lupin stared at the fire, or at the cave entrance, or, even more insufferably, at Severus. Snape wished they could get out of there and move on, but knew it would be a foolish risk to move Potter now. Better to let his condition improve still more before attempting it.

"How's your side?" the werewolf startled him by asking.

"Well enough," he said, shrugging. _Better than it would have been if Bella had managed to hit me._

Lupin watched him for a moment in an annoyingly understanding fashion, and finally said, "Why not get some sleep? I'll keep watch."

"Don't be ridiculous—" he began, but Lupin interrupted.

"Stop being contrary, Severus, we both know it's too dangerous to move Harry before nightfall—and come nightfall it will be too dangerous for _either_ of you to leave here." The werewolf shifted Potter back down in front of the fire, bundling part of the cloak beneath his head. Severus could only grit his teeth at the undeniable truth of it. The boy's condition was still far from stable; it would be folly to risk more travel today. They were stuck here for at least twenty-four hours, with one werewolf soon-to-be on the prowl and who knew how many Death Eaters.

Scowling at Lupin, he muttered, "Very well. Wake me well before dark." Lupin nodded. Severus did not expect to be able to sleep well sitting back against the cave wall knowing what might be lurking outside, but apparently he was more weary than he realized.

* * *

 

Severus woke to a quiet call of his name and found Lupin peering out the cave entrance. The few rays of sunlight that came into the small space were now on the opposite wall from the one they'd struck when Severus had gone to sleep. Potter did not look to have moved a muscle. "I must be going soon," said Lupin. He frowned at the still-slumbering Potter. "I don't supposed you happened to be carrying any food?"

"Vitalizing Potion will serve for a time," said Severus, holding up the two remaining vials that had survived the various scuffles. "Water is the more pressing need."

"I took a look around just outside, but there's nothing in view."

 _And no time to search further._ Severus glanced at the boy. At best, he was facing a long, tense night trapped in a cave with a hungry, thirsty, and highly-obnoxious teenager (who would doubtless be fretting over the werewolf's whereabouts all night long.) At worst, the boy was already ill enough that any dehydration would be serious.

But there was nothing he could do about it tonight. Severus gruffly waved Lupin off. "I'll manage. Put some distance between yourself and the cave."

Lupin hesitated in the entrance, his gaze flitting from Severus to Potter. "Severus, will you…"

"For God's sake, yes, I'll take care of him!" Severus snapped. "Now go!"

With one last, intense stare at Potter as though trying to memorize him, Lupin slipped out into the fading afternoon sun.

When the first shaft of moonlight slipped past the obscuring boulder into the cave, Severus heard the howl. Fortunately, it was some distance away.

Potter woke about an hour later, more alert than last time. Severus watched him stir and toss until he came round, groggy and blinking those bloody green Evans eyes. "Professor? Where's Remus?"

"Out. The moon is full," Snape told him shortly. "How do you feel?"

The boy managed to sit up on his own, to Snape's surprise. "Better," he said. He swallowed and grimaced. "Thirsty."

 _Naturally._ All the same, he had to concede, the boy probably was slightly dehydrated. Severus pushed one of the vials at him. "Drink that."

The potion seemed to have an effect, for the boy's eyes brightened from the fevered haze of the past few days. Severus managed not to roll his eyes at the predictable barrage of questions Potter unleashed. "What happened? How'd we get here? Why was I so sick? Where's—"

"Potter!" Severus snapped, and he subsided. "What _happened_ is the Dark Lord used the green flame torch to make a concerted attack on your physical self to the point where you would have died had we not severed the connection. Lupin and I came to the Fortress to do so, but destroying the torch caused you to appear there. We were forced to escape with you through the Forest."

Severus hadn't intended to be so forthcoming, and Potter too looked surprised that he had answered, but at least he visibly bit back further questions. Instead, to Snape's bemused surprise, he looked away and muttered, "Thanks."

Severus scowled at the fire. "Go back to sleep. I want you rested so we can move again in the morning."

"What about Remus?"

"He will rejoin us when he is in no danger of killing us," Severus said indifferently. The boy still looked rebellious, but eventually curled back up beside the fire and closed his eyes.

Severus surreptitiously left his watching post at the front of the cave and walked over to check on him. The boy seemed to be breathing easily enough, but Severus doubted the improvements would continue if they were stuck out here for any great length of time. He had one vial of Vitalizing Potion left, which might get Potter through another day, but beyond that, especially without water…he shook his head and scowled.

Things just couldn't be simple, he reasoned as he paced back to the cave entrance. It wasn't enough to be on the run from Death Eaters on some godforsaken mountain with a sick child, but his former partner had gone hunting, and they had no way of contacting the Headmaster from here. He would simply have to hope Albus could find them via the other torch; that might be the only chance of speeding their rescue at this point.

And to his even greater irritation, he could not seem to honestly blame Potter.

 _If it weren't for that stupid child's presence, we could have kept traveling and perhaps crossed the mountain by now._ But none of them had foreseen that destroying the green flame torch would cause Potter to rematerialize in the Fortress, rather than in the hospital wing.

 _If Potter hadn't run off to Hogsmeade, we might have had more warning._ But Draco Malfoy had told them Potter wasn't expected by the Death Eaters in Hogsmeade. If they hadn't realized he was missing, they might not have been able to respond to the attack in time to save lives. After all, Potter's was not the only life at stake here.

 _If Potter weren't so insufferably full of himself, perhaps he'd notice that…_ But Snape's treacherous mind returned to the hospital wing, to the sight of the boy when the Dark Lord had made his final, potentially-fatal attack through the torch and wracked Potter's body with fever. As the boy slept, curled up beneath Lupin's conjured blanket, Severus found himself recalling involuntarily the delirious mutterings in the hospital wing:

_"Remus, sorry, I…got Sirius killed, I didn't mean…sorry…Ron, Hermione, in…danger…because of me…sorry…trying…so stupid, I shouldn've gone…there…sorry…I'm…sorry…"_

James Potter was never like that, even when he did get his friends into trouble. No matter how Severus tried to force it down, that knowledge was inescapable. The one time James Potter had ever shown any second thoughts about anything had been that so-called prank involving Lupin ( _how sickeningly ironic, given our present circumstances!_ ) and even after that, he'd laughed it off. Sirius Black and James Potter had laughed at everything.

In that respect, he had to admit, Harry Potter was quite different. At least lately. Severus wasn't blind; as irritating as it was, he'd noticed the boy's deterioration under the onslaught, and only part of it had to do with the Dark Lord's continuous assault via the torch. One rather startling change that Severus had noticed was that the boy's features no longer bore so striking a resemblance to either of his parents. Among other things, chronic illness had left him far thinner and paler than James Potter ever was, and lacking the elder Potter's swagger.

Well, truth be told, Harry Potter had never quite possessed that most-obnoxious trait of his father's—but that certainly didn't mean the boy wasn't full of himself! Severus glared accusingly at the sleeping teenager and turned around to look out the cave entrance again.

But he couldn't seem to stop contemplating the changes he had noticed. No, Harry's face was no longer so stark a copy of James's, but more startling still were his eyes. Lily Evans's eyes. Perhaps seeing them yet again last night had brought it to Snape's mind; no longer were Harry Potter's eyes precisely like his mother's. Even before he'd been ill, the boy's eyes had taken on a haunted, empty look that Severus could not begin to imagine seeing in Lily Evans' eyes.

_And heaven knows neither Evans nor Potter ever began to imagine what awaited their son._

Now where had that thought come from, he wondered irritably.

It did not bode well for anything. Severus wasn't blind, and he was not a fool. All the clues, Dumbledore's actions, the Dark Lord's actions, recent events, and the boy's disposition of late pointed to one explanation, something Severus had always suspected after hearing Dumbledore's altered prophecy.

He probably should have guessed it long before this year: Harry Potter was the _only_ one who could defeat the Dark Lord.

It explained the Dark Lord's obsession. It certainly explained _Dumbledore's_ obsession. It explained the existence of the prophecy, and the way Potter had acted since the Department of Mysteries, as though he were carrying the weight of a few giants on his shoulders.

Severus Snape despised self-pity, and yet…everyone who had stood their ground against the Dark Lord—everyone who did not have a Potter jump in front of them, that is—had died. Harry Potter was apparently fated to stand his ground against the Dark Lord…and he was fresh out of parents to die for him.

Severus didn't envy the child now—not that he ever had, of course!

No, when it came to it, all the heroic feats Harry Potter had supposedly accomplished were more cases of unlikely rescue than any great brilliance on the boy's part. Potter possessed no truly remarkable skills—other than Parseltongue and Quidditch…and luck. And an endless stream of followers who were always willing to throw themselves in front of Killing Curses for him.

Severus shook his head to himself. Harry Potter was no great hero, he'd known that all along, just an ordinary child with a scar who did not deserve all the fawning he received.

 _And who doesn't deserve all the attention he's received from the Dark Lord either._ The thought slipped out before Severus could check it.

Movement in the back of the cave caught his eye; Potter was tossing in his sleep, trying to burrow further beneath the blanket. The night air was cold; Severus conjured another blanket and raised the temperature of the fire. Draping the extra cover over Potter, he felt the boy's forehead. Still warm, but not burning. Good. Once the child stopped shivering, Severus returned to the front of the cave, glancing back only now and then. He still disliked seeing Potter unconscious, it reminded him…

 _Perhaps I should have sabotaged the green flame torch to begin with._ He glared into the darkness, but the thought would not be suppressed: he had made the torch. It might have been a design of Salazar Slytherin, but it could not have been used successfully without Severus Snape's skill. If he had acted sooner, rather than biding his time as always, they might not have wound up in this predicament. _Stop thinking like a stupid Gryffindor!_

* * *

 

The moon was directly overhead when the attack came. Hearing no sounds of searchers and the occasional howl well in the distance had lulled Severus into complacency. Standing in the entryway of the cave engaged in maudlin musings about his least favorite student, he had forgotten the other ways that the Dark Lord's followers might pursue them. Stupidly, he stood there in the mouth of their shelter listening for the approach of humans…and completely missed the rat that slipped past him into the cave.

A rustle brought Severus spinning around and diving to avoid a Killing Curse thrown by Peter Pettigrew. He scrambled to his feet, and the two wizards faced off. Pettigrew was between Severus and the boy. "Don't be a fool, Severus," he hissed. "You can't fight the Dark Lord's aims forever!"

"Move away from him," Snape warned, training his wand on the smaller man.

_"Stupefy!"_

_"Avada Kedavra!"_ Wormtail dodged Snape's Killing Curse and grabbed the unconscious Potter, using the boy as a shield. "DROP HIM!" Severus roared.

"I'll kill him!" Pettigrew threatened.

But as it turned out, Potter _wasn't_ unconscious. Neither Severus nor Wormtail saw the rock clutched in the boy's hand until he twisted and bashed it into Wormtail's head. Wormtail squealed like the rat he was and dropped both boy and wand, and Potter scrambled away after it. But that inadvertently put him between Pettigrew and Snape's wand.

"Potter, down!" Severus bellowed, charging forward. The boy dropped without hesitating, but Pettigrew pounced on him, grappling past him for the wand. Potter struggled, but wasn't strong enough to keep the healthy wizard off, and Wormtail snatched up the wand and fired off a curse that caught Severus in the shoulder.

"Professor!" he heard Potter shout as he fell to his knees, then Wormtail's scream brought him out of the dazed pain.

Potter had somehow managed to twist his body sideways—landing Wormtail right in the fire. Shrieking, Pettigrew lurched upright, batting at the flames with one hand, and grabbing Potter by the throat with the other—the silver hand.

"No!" Severus shouted, raising his wand, but Wormtail wrenched the gasping boy in front of him.

"Drop it!" he cried.

Severus did not move. "I will kill you, Pettigrew," he growled.

Wormtail was breathing heavily and sweating in the chilly air. "Not before I break his neck," he quavered. His own wand lay several feet away where it had fallen. "Drop your wand and back away!"

"Don't!" Potter hissed at Snape, but Wormtail's grip tightened, cutting off his breath. He thrashed and clawed at the silver hand to no avail, and his green eyes began to glaze.

"Enough!" Severus bellowed as the boy's legs buckled. He dropped his wand and backed off.

Wormtail hauled Potter forward and picked up the wand before loosening the choke hold. The boy doubled over, gasping frantically, and as his weight pulled Pettigrew off balance, Severus dove for the other wand. A curse impacted the floor, just missing him, as he grabbed Wormtail's wand and returned fire. With his silver hand, Pettigrew hurled Potter against the cave wall. The boy slammed into the unyielding stone and dropped to the floor in a limp heap. Severus snarled in rage and threw curse after curse at Wormtail until he knocked the treacherous little man to the floor, then roared, _"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

He did not miss, and Pettigrew did not raise his wand. Instead, he flung out his silver hand, and the jet of green light struck it—and rebounded off it. Severus had no time to wonder, but leapt behind a stalagmite, which was promptly blown to pieces. Before he had a chance to move again, Wormtail fired off a Reductor Curse at the ceiling over his head, dropping what felt like a mountain's worth of rock down on him. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around his head and curled into a ball, wincing as debris pummeled him.

When it was over, he lay in the rubble, ears ringing and head pounding, he heard a scuffle, and Potter's voice. " _Expelli_ _—_ ah!" There was the harsh sound of a blow, then nothing but ragged breathing.

"Get up."

"No! Get off!" Severus struggled to make his leaden limbs respond as he heard Pettigrew strike Potter again, cutting off the boy's protests. It seemed doubtful that the still-ailing child could put up much of a fight, but Severus could hear the other wizard grunting as he dragged Potter out into the night.

At length, Severus extracted himself from the debris and found—to his amazement—no broken bones, only incredibly painful bruising. _It is truly a wonder that Pettigrew has stayed alive in the Dark Lord's service; he is so hopelessly incompetent._

Clearly, Severus had been left for dead, which meant Pettigrew _might_ not be fearing pursuit. On the other hand, he had Potter, he had Snape's wand, he had who-knew-how-many Death Eaters awaiting him, and they all had a werewolf to contend with. With a groan, Severus pulled himself to his feet and slipped out the entrance. Looking carefully past the boulder, he saw no sign of Wormtail or the boy. Severus closed his eyes.

This would be difficult without a wand, but he would have to manage if he wanted to find them. Concentrating with all his strength on the boy, he whispered, _"Reperio."_

He opened his eyes to see a faint point of light hovering in the air in front of him, and as he watched, it floated off over the rocky slope. Severus followed.

* * *

 

The Seek Spell led him in a swerving course along the mountainside until Severus was very puzzled: why hadn't Pettigrew taken Potter straight off the mountain? He hadn't heard the werewolf for some time, and assuming Pettigrew knew Lupin was out there, they'd be no safer on the mountain slope than in the Forest of Shadows.

But the spell kept going, and Severus stealthily kept after it. Dragging an unwilling or unconscious teenager would be enough to slow Wormtail down, and Severus needed the element of surprise. If he could catch them before Wormtail reached any allies—where _were_ the others!—he had a chance of getting the boy back before he suffered any further injuries.

He glanced at the stars. It was around two in the morning. Dangerous hours of moonlight left. _Damn!_ His Seek Spell was slowing down, which meant he must be close. That was one of the more complicated feats of wandless magic he'd managed; at any other time, he would have been pleased. But at this moment, all his concentration lay in avoiding detection as he crept around a rocky outcropping.

Severus stopped, staring in surprise. Nestled on the mountainside was a house, a large house built in Greek or Roman style made of the same gray stone as the mountain. Why anyone would want to live on this barren rock was beyond him—but somehow he doubted this was somebody's summer home. The whisper of old magic that scented the air of the mountain seemed to grow stronger here, and it looked as if the building had been uninhabited for a long time. His instincts warned him to be wary of this place, yet something else seemed to call him forward to find what he sought…and overriding all other factors was the dim flicker of fire in one of the lower windows. The Seek Spell had halted. The boy was here, and that meant Severus would venture into the house, whatever it contained.

He was just starting to creep around the outcropping toward the next hiding place when a scream of agony pierced the cold air. Severus knew from painful experience the only curse that could always prompt such a cry, and his stomach clenched in a surge of fury that surprised him even as it took him. _Pettigrew, you bloody bastard!_

He began creeping as fast as he could from one concealing boulder to another, ducking behind outcroppings and staying low to the ground, intent on getting to the house as soon as possible. He could see no sign of movement from the other windows, but he knew that did not mean Pettigrew and Potter were the only ones inside. But then the boy cried out again, and he sprinted toward the window where the fire burned and crouched below it, listening to the voices within.

"Damn you!" Pettigrew was ranting, in a savage voice that made Snape's blood run cold. He much preferred Wormtail the Whimpering Wastrel. "Nothing ever goes right for my master and me with you! Do you know how much trouble you've caused me!"

Potter, his voice rough with pain, retorted, "Not as much as you caused me by murdering my parents!"

 _(Slap!)_ "Shut up! Why can't I get off this bloody mountain!"

Severus blinked. _What?_

"I told you, I don't know!"

 _(Slap!)_ "You're _lying,_ you brat! What is this place! Answer me, or I'll use the other hand!"

Severus pressed his fists against the cold gray stone. He had to be rational…he had to bide his time and wait for the right moment… _Touch him again, and you'll pay dearly, Wormtail._

"Look, you can hit me all night—I _don't know!_ " the boy cried. His voice was shaking with pain and anger. Snape took deep breaths to calm down and keep from acting rashly. But it was difficult. He slowly edged up and peered through the window.

Luck, it seemed, was still with him; Wormtail's back was turned. The rat was pacing in jittery frustration around a barren room with a fire burning on the smooth floor. There were several columns rising from floor to ceiling, and in the flickering light, Severus saw Potter's profile next to one of them. He was tightly bound in a standing position with his arms forced behind him around the column. The boy sagged against the ropes, and Severus grimly wondered how much more abuse he could take.

Just then, Pettigrew turned around, and Severus ducked and held his breath as footsteps stalked toward the window. Wormtail aimed his wand outside and tried to send up sparks. Severus frowned in confusion when nothing happened.

Wormtail tried again. _"Lumos!"_ Still nothing. While Severus was confused, the rat became still more infuriated. Spitting, he left the window, and Severus clenched his teeth at the sound of another blow. _"What…did…you…do!"_ Pettigrew screeched, punctuating each word with a slap.

"Nothing! It's not me!" Potter grunted, and Severus dared another look in time to see Pettigrew conjure a piece of cloth, which he roughly shoved into the boy's mouth.

"It must be you," the rat growled, though his quavering voice betrayed him. "My wand works except for when I try to send a signal!" Cursing, he conjured more cloth and carried it in his silver hand toward the fire. "You'll get plenty more of the Cruciatus when I've found the others!"

 _Where magic fails, do it the Muggle way,_ Severus thought, realizing Pettigrew meant to use the fire as a signal, and readied himself. As soon as Pettigrew's back was completely to the window, Severus jumped upon the sill and launched himself with all his might. It was made difficult by the injuries he'd sustained, but he still managed to slam his body into the rat, sending them both crashing to the ground.

Two wands, the second knocked from a pocket, went skittering across the floor, and Snape and Pettigrew engaged in a mad scramble to seize them. Severus lost, but Pettigrew's first curse missed, and he managed to snag his own wand to shoot one back. That missed as well. Then his luck ran out.

 _"Expelliarmus!"_ Pettigrew's Disarming Charm sent Snape's wand flying across the room and knocked him onto his back. He looked up, despairing, as the other wizard took dead aim. _"Avad—"_

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Potter's face turn toward the fire in a quick, sharp movement. All at once, the smokeless flames seemed to leap into the air of their own accord, and flew across the room to set Pettigrew's robes alight. Wormtail screeched in panic and clawed at his burning garments for the second time that night as Severus leapt for his own wand. But even in his panic, the rat had the sense not to stick around to become a target, and ran, still batting at his robes, to the window and jumped out. Severus retrieved his wand and sprinted after him, firing off curses that went wide due to his haste, but then something made him pause.

Wormtail had scrambled for cover behind a boulder, but was now coming out again, despite the fact that Severus was standing openly in the window. He stared in complete disbelief, eyes scanning the area rapidly, and it dawned on Snape that Pettigrew could no longer see the house. Obviously he had found it before, and sheltered himself and his prisoner here, but now that Severus had come for the boy, the rat could not return. And he had not been able to find his way off the mountain, or signal his compatriots, or… _what IS this place?_

Severus shook off that line of thought, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, and watched as the defeated traitor shuffled off down the hill, searching for the still-elusive fellow-Death-Eaters. When he had gone, Snape let out the breath he'd been holding. His side was burning something fierce, but he ignored it and turned back toward the column where Potter was bound.

Briskly, Severus went to release him, but a single look at Potter's face made him stop in his tracks. The boy's expression was one of helpless, desperate panic; unable to speak past the tight gag, his eyes were locked upon Snape's as though he were begging the man for help.

_Draco_ _…_

Now how in God's name could Harry Potter remind him of Draco? Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter could not look or be less alike if they tried. So why had the thought of Draco struck Severus with such intensity that it took his breath away?

It was the eyes…but Draco's were narrow and gray, and Potter's were large and green. So why would he…it was the fear, it suddenly dawned on Severus. That's what it was.

It was not even the same degree of fear. Draco's frightened outrage did not hold a candle to the stark terror that burned in Harry Potter's eyes at this moment. He was not afraid _of_ Snape, but something in the way he looked at the adult wizard was precisely the same as what Severus had seen in Draco's eyes only a few days before. Both looked to Snape as their only source of rescue.

He forced his mind off it and went to work on the bonds. "Hold still. _Dissendium_ " The cloth tore neatly, and Severus removed the gag from Potter's mouth. The boy remained silent and squeezed his eyes shut as Severus cut the ropes. "There, are you—"

He was completely unprepared for the boy falling into his arms with a strangled gasp, shaking like a leaf. Rocking back in surprise, Snape managed to keep them both from toppling over, stunned as he was to find Harry Potter literally clinging to him, the boy's face buried in Snape's robes. Even days ago, he might well have shoved the boy away in revulsion, but now he could not seem to find the will—or even the disgust needed to do it.

Instead, Severus awkwardly held him up. Perhaps it was merely exhaustion that prevented the boy from standing on his own. "Potter…it's all right. He's gone. Calm down."

To his intense relief, Potter did let go, though he was leaning heavily against the column and breathing far too fast. "S-sorry," he whispered shakily as he sank to his knees. "I don't…like being…tied up."

Oh. Of course. At Death Eater bragging sessions, Wormtail's favorite story was of tying the famous Harry Potter to a tombstone. Or rather, of the then-fourteen-year-old's terror as he was bound, beaten, and cut, and forced to watch his parents' murderer restored to full life.

It almost made Severus put an arm around him. To stave off that bizarre impulse, he hurriedly reached into his pocket and pulled out the last remaining vial of Vitalizing Potion. "Drink this."

That was a mistake. Potter wrenched away from him in a panic, blindly scrambling to his feet and making a staggering dash for the doorway. Severus all but tackled him, and the boy fought wildly, beyond all sense. Severus was at a loss to do anything but hold on until it dawned on him what had happened to Potter in the last few hours: spirited away to the stronghold of his enemies, bound, tortured, and now facing a vial of strange potion.

"Potter, listen to me! It's only a restorative! You don't have to drink it! Listen to me! Potter! HARRY!"

The boy went limp in his arms, and for a moment, Severus thought he had collapsed. But then he drew in a shaky breath and whispered, "What?"

"You don't…have…to drink it," Snape repeated. Potter was silent, and Severus steered him to the fireside and conjured a blanket. "Relax. Pettigrew cannot find this place again, it seems. Look at me." The boy raised his head, and Severus examined his face. His lip was split, one side of his face bruised and puffy from the worst of Wormtail's blows. A few charms brought the swelling down, but the bruising would have to heal on its own. "Are there any other injuries?"

"Hands're a bit...numb."

Severus took the boy's arm and rolled up the sleeve of his jumper, finding dark bruises on his wrist indicating how tightly Pettigrew had bound him. He gripped Potter's hands in each of his. "Can you grip?" Potter tried, but the grip was weak, which worried Severus. The boy had not been bound for that long, but Severus had no potions or spells for possible nerve damage. Still, if there was nothing he could do, there was no point in sharing that information. "Flex your fingers. Continue, and they should begin to recover." Potter did, holding his hands out toward the fire. "Anything else?"

The boy shook his head. "No," he murmured. "I don…don't think so."

Severus , he pulled out the vial again. "It is Vitalizing Potion, and you need it, Potter. It will help."

Slowly, Potter reached out and took it, swallowing the contents. His green eyes cleared, but Snape's relief was short-lived. The boy swallowed again, thickly; it was as Severus had feared, he was becoming dehydrated. "I didn't…sorry, it was stupid," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don't know why I panicked like that."

"No, it was understandable—" Severus began, but then he broke off, astonished at his own words and the feeling that had driven them. Potter was staring at him in surprise. Severus looked away and grimaced.

_Damn this place anyway._


	28. The Mountain of Fantasy, Part Two

The struggle with Pettigrew had made the pain from Snape's own injuries worse, but there was little to do about it now.

Potter glanced around the room, his eyes falling on the column and the ropes that had bound him, and shuddered. "Do we have to stay here?"

Severus considered it. If this house was somehow protecting them by hiding them from the Death Eaters' view, there was every reason to stay. But what if the illusions somehow failed? They would be incredibly exposed…not to mention that his charge would not do well remaining in the room where he'd been tied up, hexed, and beaten like an animal.

Rage coursed through Severus, so intense that it startled him, but the savage thoughts would not be suppressed. _I should have killed Pettigrew when I had the chance. Or at least hit him with something suitably painful._

And there was also the question of whether the illusions would keep the werewolf out. Glancing at Potter, he stood up. "Wait here. I'll have a look aroun—" The expression on the boy's face made him pause. On second thought, leaving him alone would _not_ be a good idea, and that had only partly to do with the possibility of Pettigrew returning. "On your feet, then. Stay behind me."

To his relief, Potter's injuries did not seem to prevent him from walking, so Severus led the way around the ancient, barren walls, searching for any sign of what this place was and whether it would make a suitable shelter.

Potter stayed close, his eyes scouring their surroundings in the light of Snape's wand, never saying a word. Severus astonished himself yet again by wishing fervently for the old, obnoxious Harry Potter, up to and including his arrogance. That brat was at least familiar and manageable. This frightened child was evoking thoughts and impulses that Severus did not understand, and liked even less. But after the night's events, what else was to be expected?

Their search of the house, upstairs and downstairs, revealed nothing of use. No signs of the source of the magic that filled this place, no tools they could use, and worse, no water. Growing concerned about Potter, both the dehydration and his reaction to this place (anyone who did not know the boy well might not have seen his suppressed fear, but Severus did) Severus considered. "Where's Pettigrew?" Potter asked.

Severus frowned, having already told him, then recalled the boy's state of mind at the time and said, "After leaving the house, he could not seem to see it anymore. This place may shield us from him and other searchers." Potter still looked resistant to remaining here, but at the moment it seemed to be wiser than venturing out into the night—there was a thump.

Potter froze, and Severus grabbed his arm, drawing his wand. "What—" the boy began, but then they both saw the source of the thumping. A large, stone chest resting against a wall was rattling slightly as if its occupant had sensed the intruders.

Severus motioned Potter behind him and aimed a spell at the chest, knocking the lid off. From within it stepped a black-robed wizard in a white mask, and Potter backed up hurriedly. Severus hesitated; it seemed odd that a Death Eater would lie there in wait…the other wizard removed his mask, and for a moment, coherent thought deserted Severus.

The face behind the Death Eater's mask was his own.

He heard Potter's shaky intake of breath behind him, and struggled to make his brain function again. The Death Eater, Severus Snape, peered past the real Snape at the boy behind him and smiled coldly, raising its own wand. _"Cru—"_

 _"Riddikulus!"_ Severus shouted frantically as Potter flinched.

The Boggart stumbled, but neither changed nor vanished. Severus never had been able to get rid of the bloody things—Potter stepped in front of him. "Mine's a Dementor," he muttered, and Severus handed him the wand.

Snape the Death Eater paused, then changed…but not into a Dementor.

Potter cried out and recoiled, and even Severus gasped: it was the Dark Lord, his eyes glowing red with malice as he stood before a scattered mass of bodies. Dazed, Severus recognized them all:

Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley—multiple Weasleys, in fact—Remus Lupin, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Neville Longbottom…and by the throat, the Dark Lord held one remaining, living victim, who was struggling in terror. It was Ron Weasley. The Dark Lord aimed his wand directly at the red-headed boy's heart and hissed, _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Sensing that they were both outmatched by this Boggart, Severus grabbed Potter around the chest and hauled him bodily out the door. "There's nothing here of use to us. We're leaving."

Potter's breathing hitched, but he said nothing. They still had several hours until dawn. Severus took him in the opposite direction from the one Pettigrew had gone, and to his surprise, Potter kept up well. First it surprised, then it concerned him; the boy should have the sense to speak up if their pace of climbing and walking was too much. He had only recently been tortured, not to mention violently ill. But he did not speak, so Severus was forced to keep a close watch on his efforts and judge when best to slow down. It was frustrating, sensing the boy was struggling and not saying, but on the other hand, Severus could not help feeling…a sense of grudging respect.

Harry Potter was stubborn, without doubt, but Severus Snape of all people knew there was not a very great difference between stubbornness and strength. And despite being tied up and tortured by the same wizard who'd resurrected his parents' murderer, Potter had defied Pettigrew. Perhaps there was another reason the boy had survived his encounters with the Dark Lord after all.

_WHAT are you suggesting, man!_

When he felt they had gone a safe distance without signs of pursuit, Severus performed a Seek Spell, this time for water. Potter didn't ask what he was looking for, which was fine with Severus because he did not want the boy dwelling on his thirst. But the Spell was leading them, giving Severus the first real hope he'd felt in ages, that perhaps there was water to be found on this rock.

After a time, Potter began to visibly falter, and Severus silently put an arm around his shoulders to support him as they walked. He considered simply carrying him, but Potter seemed to be managing for now, and in all honesty, he wasn't certain he himself would manage it. While his own situation was not so precarious as the boy's, it was growing harder to ignore his own injuries.

Still, they kept on, until Potter broke the silence and startled Severus into stopping. "I smell water."

Severus straightened and eyed the Seek Spell. It did appear to be slowing. "Then hope it's drinkable. Come on."

It felt as though they had circled the entire bloody mountain, but when they picked their way around a final outcropping, Severus mused that this must be how men lost in the desert felt when they encountered an oasis. The sight of a small stream running silently ( _odd, that, very odd_ ) down the mountainside to form a shallow pool before trickling down into another cave seemed to lift all weariness and pain from him. Obviously, it had the same effect on Potter, for the boy let out a heavy sigh and would have gone straight to the water if Severus hadn't stopped him.

"Wait here." After everything else he'd seen in this place, he was not going to trust this new, too-convenient reprieve. He pulled one of the empty potion vials from his robe, spelled it clean, and filled it with water, then aimed his wand at it. _"Aperio Periculum!"_

The water in the vial began to glow softly white, until it resembled the Phial of Galadriel, but Severus saw no flickers of red, black, or green. The water was pure. "Is it safe?" Potter asked softly from behind him.

"Yes. Go on, but drink slowly," Severus told him, and swallowed the water in the vial before joining the boy at the pool's edge.

Potter was visibly restraining himself from gulping it, but dipped it out with his hand and sipped, his eyes closed in relief. Severus frowned at the bruises on his wrists before drinking more himself. The water was perfectly cold and clean, the most blissful thing he had tasted in a very long time. He scowled at the silvery rocks surrounding him. What kind of game was this bloody mountain playing with them?

Before he had time to contemplate further, sounds brought both of them leaping to their feet, the bliss of the water forgotten. People were clambering over the rocks—more than one. Voices drifted through the cold air, irritated, frightened voices. Definitely not Aurors. And they were close.

"Come on," Snape hissed, grabbing Potter's shoulders and pulling him back away from the water. He thought of retreating into the small cave where the water was running, but its entrance was too visible; Death Eaters would look there. They scrambled back the way they had came, hurrying around the outcropping…only to find themselves mere yards away from a werewolf.

Potter gasped as Severus yanked him backwards. _Shit. Oh shit._ The werewolf let out a yelp—as surprised by them as they were by it, apparently—and shouts rang out near the pool.

"I heard something! Go! Go!"

"Keep up, Pettigrew!" The werewolf's ears pricked at hearing the noises, then it gathered itself, and Severus dispensed with stealth as scrambling footsteps came toward them from the opposite direction.

 _"MOVE!"_ He threw Potter to the ground and himself across the boy as the werewolf sprang, but to both of their astonishment the creature went right past them to meet the group of black-robed wizards who were just then coming around the rocks in search of them.

The air filled with the werewolf's snarls and shrieks of panic from the Death Eaters. Severus heard the sounds of robes tearing (among other things) and one scream taking on a much wilder tone, and didn't wait; he yanked Potter to his feet and hauled the boy with him over the rocks, back to the pool side. They slid down, completely ignored by the fleeing Death Eaters, and landed in the water. Severus grunted as pain lanced through his side. Sputtering and coughing, Potter scrambled to his feet and held out a hand. Severus took it, staggered upright with the boy's help, and they stumbled together into the other cave. If the Death Eaters were preoccupied, they might not see their quarry coming in here. And the werewolf might just be preoccupied all the way back to the Forest.

The cave where the stream ran was no larger than a closet, with the water trickling off into the rocks, but it served its purpose enough. Severus pushed Potter in front of him against the wall, muttered a quick drying spell on them both, then they huddled there listening to the agonized screams and feral growls as the Dark Lord's followers fled the werewolf.

He could feel the boy's heart pounding against his arm, but Potter did not make a sound as the ruckus gradually faded. When silence had hung for several moments, Severus moved, gritting his teeth against his throbbing wounds, but motioned the boy to stay where he was. Then he crept carefully to the small mouth of the cave and peered out.

The werewolf was there, drinking from the pool. Severus hastily pulled back and shook his head at Potter's questioning look. They weren't going anywhere, it appeared, and when that thing found them…he stayed in front of Potter and watched the entrance. Not that his wand would do much good, but perhaps if he could buy the boy time to get out—and yet how far would Potter get, in his condition?

Potter was pressed up against his back, peering over his shoulder, when the inevitable sight greeted them of the werewolf sniffing its way to the entrance of their dubious shelter, blocking the moonlight. Severus put a hand over the boy's mouth and waited.

The creature stood there, staring at them, but did not attack. Perhaps it had eaten its fill of Death Eaters or…what _was_ it waiting for?

The werewolf whined softly, tilting its head and looking, not at Severus, but past him…at Potter. The boy pulled his face out from behind Snape's hand, and Severus did not stop him. It did not seem possible, but… "Remus?" Potter whispered.

The werewolf nodded its head. _"Lupin?"_ Severus demanded. Another nod. Then it turned and left the cave.

Potter squirmed past Severus. "Remus, wait!" he called.

"Potter, slow down!" Severus said, pulling him back before cautiously exiting the cave. The boy was practically hopping to get to the werewolf, which had returned to the side of the pool. Severus met its strangely-calm gaze and said, "You've kept your mind, then?"

The werewolf nodded, but moved away when Potter tried to approach it, obviously not wanting to risk being close to the boy even while lucid. "Do you think it's this mountain?" Potter asked.

"More than likely," Severus replied, returning to the water's edge. He noticed Potter rubbing his wrists. "Has the feeling returned?"

"A little. They're still…clumsy," he muttered, awkwardly trying to pick up a stone.

Severus filled the empty vial and muttered a Warming Spell on it, then motioned Potter over. The heat would at least increase the blood circulation. The boy hissed as the hot water flowed over his hands, but held still. Severus released him and turned his attention to his own injuries once Potter had gone to drink again. Conjuring some bandages, he attempted to clean and wrap his side and shoulder while the boy's back was turned, but Potter glanced at him and froze when he saw the bloody, bruised flesh where the curses had struck.

"You're hurt!"

"Of course I am, you idiot, I've fought five duels in twenty-four hours," Severus muttered, binding the wounds as best he could. That took care of the visible hurts, but breathing had been growing more painful in the past few hours, and some of the bruising from hexes and falling rocks in the first cave was, he suspected, more serious.

But now Potter was watching him more closely. "It's bad," he said softly.

"I'm aware of that," he growled. He disliked the child's concerned words, more so because they were genuine.

"Is there anything—"

"No, damn it, there is nothing you, I, or anyone else can do under present circumstances," Severus snapped. "Now mind your own—"

The werewolf growled from the other side of the pool. Severus glowered, expecting that Lupin was annoyed with his harshness toward Potter, but the werewolf was looking in another direction. It turned and pointed a paw very deliberately at the cave, then looked back off down the mountainside again. "Remus?" Potter whispered.

The creature looked more urgently at them. "Come on," said Severus, dragging himself to his feet and motioning Potter toward the cave. "I suspect we've got company." They slipped into the cramped shelter as the werewolf went to stand directly in front of it. The creature's howl made them both wince as it reverberated through the small space. _That ought to discourage them from investigating in this direction,_ Severus thought snidely. He'd never imagined himself appreciating Lupin's alter-ego.

At the moment, the werewolf was drinking loudly from the pool, howling at the moon occasionally, letting any curious Death Eaters know of its presence.

"Get comfortable, Potter," Severus told the boy. "We'll wait out the remainder of the night." Truth be told, he wasn't sure how much more he would be able to move around.

Fortunately, the boy didn't argue, but sat back against the cave wall, dipping his fingers idly in the stream. "Remus is guarding us."

"I know." He ran his head through spells to diagnose or treat internal injuries and shock. Nothing that would work out here in these conditions without a potion. He closed his eyes and took a painful breath, then opened them and saw Potter watching him. No sense delaying the inevitable. "Come dawn, Mr. Potter, you and Lupin must continue."

"Contin—without you! Leave you here?" the boy looked more resistant to the idea than Severus had expected.

"Yes," he said wearily. "I will not be able to travel swiftly, and the two of you must get off this mountain as quickly as possible so Dumbledore can find you."

"We can't leave you!" Potter protested.

"Damn it," Severus hissed, wincing at the pain in his side. "Drop the bloody Gryffindor hero complex for once!" The boy winced. "You _must_ get out of here alive, Potter, and I can no longer aid you!"

Potter pulled his knees up to his chest and avoided Snape's eyes. "It's not a 'hero complex,'" he muttered. "It's just…we shouldn't leave one of our people behind."

"I will only slow you down."

"You saved me!" the boy protested.

"And not merely to have you tracked down and killed because you did not have the sense to cut your losses," Severus snapped. Potter looked genuinely stricken, why, he could not imagine. In a calmer voice, he informed him, "I told you before you must learn to master your emotions, Potter. That includes this mad idea that you must rescue every person you meet."

To his surprise, Potter smiled wanly. "A 'saving people thing.' That's what Hermione calls it," he murmured, looking away.

"For once, Miss Granger has shown real insight. You'd do well to heed her."

"You're wrong. She's wrong."

"Potter—"

"It's not! I mean, not a…hero thing. I don't…I didn't…" the boy shook his head, resting his chin on his knees. "You don't understand."

"Then explain it," Severus said shortly. "Why do you insist on these damn fool jaunts to single-handedly rescue every person in difficulty rather than relying on people trained to do it?"

Potter looked directly at him, his eyes bright with some emotion Severus could not identify. "Have you ever been a prisoner before?" he dropped his eyes, but they were still intense. "I mean…I know you were…trapped, doing things you didn't want…as a spy, but have you ever been…locked up? Or tied up?"

Severus stared at him, comprehending in spite of himself, recalling the boy's near-hysteria when he'd cut him loose after chasing off Pettigrew. _"I don't like being tied up."_ So that was it.

And he heard himself say, "No. Other than willingly taking up the role of an infiltrator, I have never been held against my will."

The boy looked away and muttered, "Did you ever wish…someone would make it stop? Someone would come help you so you wouldn't have to…go to him anymore?"

"I did not have time to think of such things," he replied curtly. "Not if I wanted to survive. What is your point? You were engaging in ridiculous escapades long before the Triwizard Tournament." His heart wasn't really in the debate anymore, but it gave him something to think about other than the burning pain in his insides and the increasing weakness in his whole body.

"I know, Hermione pointed that out. It was stupid, but…I wasn't trying to be heroic, I just…ten years," Potter whispered, closing his eyes. Severus looked sharply at him. He opened his eyes and explained, "I spent ten years locked up, wishing someone would come for me. I thought I'd always be there, in the cupboard. Then Hagrid came." He took a deep breath and looked away.

Against his will, Severus found himself running through the memories he had seen in Occlumency in his head. The boy in the cupboard, the many locks on the bedroom door…Severus remembered the vague echo of emotion from those old memories he had uncovered, a sense of hopeless longing…

With an effort, he shook it off. "And how does this lead you to attempt to single-handedly protect everyone yourself?" he asked. He did _not_ like thinking about this, it was too disturbing, but something was compelling him to probe further.

Potter's face was bleak. "You don't know what it's like. Alone, trapped…when Wormtail killed Cedric and tied me up, I…I wished anyone would come, anyone at all. The police, even. Just someone…I dream about it, wishing and wishing for help and no one comes. I…I _couldn't_ leave Sirius like that!"

"You left, even though you had given me the message," Severus remarked.

He would not have thought it possible, but the boy curled up into an even smaller ball, his forehead pressed into his knees. "I thought you wouldn't do anything," he groaned. "I thought you didn't care."

"I am a member of the Order," Severus said indignantly. "You should have trusted me to—"

Potter raised his head, green eyes flashing, his face pinched as though in physical pain. "After everything that'd happened that year, why should I have trusted you to help Sirius, of all people?" he hissed bitterly. "And I—I—couldn't—he's—he was—I couldn't just wait—couldn't stand that happening to him!"

Severus sighed heavily, wincing as his side protested. "Potter, the Order exists for a reason. Going into a situation without backup—and your friends do not count as such—is dangerous both to you and the person you are aiming to help."

"I know that now," the boy sighed. "Just too late for Sirius."

"For God's sake, Black is…" Severus broke off. Potter glanced up at him. Appalled at his carelessness, Severus said slowly, "Black _was_ a capable dueler. You are not the direct cause of…what happened. You have seen since that we are at war. Those who fight it always risk death."

Potter did not seem very comforted, but Severus was busy cursing himself for the almost-slip of the tongue that might have sent the child into complete hysterics. _Besides, you don't know for a fact that Black is alive. Lupin was right; the Dark Lord has probably killed him by now._

More appalling to him still was the fact that he found himself wishing it were not so, for Potter's sake. He justified it by considering that the boy would be far easier to manage if Black were to return.

"Why did you call Sirius a coward?" Potter asked suddenly, staring at him. "You knew he wasn't."

Here at least, they were on familiar territory. Severus made no bones about replying bluntly. "And Black knew I was not a Death Eater. Do not try to hold him blameless for our quarrel, boy, you saw precisely what the man got up to."

Potter winced. "I'm sorry for that, the Pensieve, I mean. I didn't realize it was something personal." He didn't look at Severus, which was a good thing, because Severus was flat-out gaping at him.

"What on earth did you think it _was_ , then!"

"I…something about the Order, I suppose. Or what was in the Department of Myst…" he shook his head. "I was just tired of being kept in the dark."

Severus shifted, trying to ease the pain in his burning side, and asked curtly, "Why didn't you leave once you discovered it was not?"

Potter's pale face flushed, and he bit his lip. "I…I saw my father. I forgot…I just wanted to see him…alive…what he'd been like. I didn't know."

Severus scowled at the cave entrance, at the shadow of Lupin-the-werewolf moving around outside. Damn the boy for apologizing, for explaining himself! And damn the whole bloody thing for making so much sense. Damn it, he didn't _want_ to understand Harry Potter! Then his side distracted him with an intense stab of pain that made him gasp. Potter jumped. "Are you—"

"No, but there is nothing either of us can do about it," Severus retorted through clenched teeth. "Whatever your sensitivities say against it, leave me in the morning when Lupin returns."

"We—"

" _Potter!_ " he snapped, wincing at the pain. "Do _not_ argue with me in this!"

The boy was breathing hard, staring at him with anxious eyes. Why did Potter care about his fate anyway? But before Severus could wonder further, Potter blurted, "Isn't there any way we could get help to come to us?"

Severus closed his eyes and leaned back against the cave wall. "Dumbledore is tracking me by means of another torch—or at least we intended to do so. Whether he can find me on this mountain is another matter; all he is likely to know is that I am alive for the moment. And apparating is impossible from here." And he wouldn't have the strength to do it now if it did prove possible. He was growing light-headed.

"But if we could signal them somehow…" Potter mused, chewing on his lip as he glanced at the cave mouth. There was more light coming in; dawn was approaching. Severus wondered idly if he would be conscious to see it. It might well be his last sunrise.

"Your owl will not be able to find us here," he told Potter. "The magic concealing this place is older than the Four Founders."

"I wasn't thinking of owls…" Potter looked at him. "What about Fawkes?"

"Perhaps, but how do you propose to signal…oh." Severus broke off. _Come to think of it._ Perhaps the torch and the Phoenix would be enough to guide the Headmaster to their location. His side was so painful it took his breath, and he felt off-balance, closing his eyes. "If you wish to try it," he told the boy vaguely, "then I suggest…you do."

After that, he knew nothing more.

* * *

 

"Severus? Severus, can you hear me?" A familiar, comforting voice—one of the only comforting voices Severus Snape knew of—pulled him gently out of a well of black velvet. "Wake up, Severus. It's time to go home."

His side ached, but his insides no longer burned, and breathing was easier. It also felt as if someone had dressed his injuries. He dragged his eyes open to meet a pair of twinkling blue ones behind half-moon spectacles. "Albus."

The headmaster smiled and patted his hand. Severus Snape was not the sort of man who could be moved by words; flattery fell flat with him, as did criticism or cajoling. But there were three in Albus Dumbledore's vocabulary alone that could reach him like nothing else.

"Well done, Severus."

Taking a deep breath, he let the headmaster help him sit up. They were beside the pool on the mountainside. The sun was only just over the horizon. It had been an hour, maybe two.

"Potter?" he began, but looking around, he saw the boy sitting a few yards away as Madam Pomfrey fussed over him. Someone had wrapped an Auror robe around him—Tonks, Severus noticed, seeing the Metamorphmagus kneeling beside Potter. Also sitting with the boy was Dumbledore's Phoenix, singing softly. Lupin appeared recovered from the night's trials and was talking with several other Aurors, all Order members, and they were all glancing apprehensively at the dark, hulking pyramid of the Fortress of Shadows, rising above the Forest like a mockery of the silver mountain upon which they stood.

A ways down the mountain's slope was a carriage, drawn by Granians. "We left as soon as our diversion ended," Dumbledore told him, helping him to his feet. "Finding you with our own torch was difficult, but Fawkes suddenly joined us in the carriage, and between the two of us, we managed it."

"So Potter called him?" Severus concluded. The Phoenix fluttered along over their heads; he had never had much interest in Severus, like so many others who served Dumbledore.

"Remus helped too," said Potter. He looked everywhere but at Severus.

Dumbledore went on. "Harry sent up red sparks as soon as he saw Fawkes. He was very worried," he remarked, smiling at Severus. "He would not allow us to take him back to Hogwarts until we were certain you could be moved."

Lupin went to help the boy to his feet. "Come on, Harry. Let's get out of here."

Har—Potter laughed weakly. "Yes, please, let's." He seemed very weary, and there were more bruises on his face that Severus had not seen in the darkness the night before, but other than that, he appeared well on the mend.

Lupin had an arm around his shoulders, and Potter leaned gratefully against him until they reached the carriage and were ushered inside. The interior had been enlarged, making it perfectly comfortable for ten people to sit in the seats. Severus wound up sitting on the opposite seat from Dumbledore, Lupin, and Potter.

Tonks sat on one side of the boy, Lupin on the other, and Potter's head was already on the werewolf's shoulder. "Remus?" he murmured suddenly, his eyes half-lidded. "I meant to…I'm sorry about…Hogsmeade. It was stupid." Severus felt very odd at hearing that confession, for reasons he couldn't quite pinpoint.

Lupin sighed and pulled the boy closer. "I'm glad you're sorry. You frightened us. Just promise me, Harry. Promise me you won't sneak out again. Not while we're at war, and while you're a target. We, Ron, Hermione, your other friends, and I…we couldn't bear losing you."

Drowsily, the boy nodded. "I promise." Lupin gave his shoulders a squeeze.

"So much for professional detachment," Severus couldn't resist remarking.

For some reason, he could not seem to muster the acidity to make the words sting as he usually intended them to. "Sod off, Severus," Lupin said cheerfully.

The Aurors talked among themselves and with Albus as the carriage rose into the air. Severus did not wish to look out at either the mountain or the Fortress, and instead found himself watching the boy's steady march into sleep. Tonks was fondly rubbing his back as he leaned against Lupin, green eyes drooping lower every second. "They say you stayed yourself last night, Remus," she murmured.

Lupin nodded, careful not to disturb the boy on his shoulder. "That's among several things I can't explain. What is that mountain, Albus?" he asked softly.

The headmaster looked out the window for a moment. "No one precisely knows. What is known is that of the many who fled imprisonment in the Fortress of Shadows throughout history, those who managed to reach the mountain were able to escape. It is a haven."

"Pettigrew was able to get onto the mountain," Severus mused. "Even to take Potter. But I heard him say he could not find his way back off the mountain with the boy."

"Hmm. Interesting. And the two of you were able to shelter in a building which became invisible to Pettigrew, Harry tells me?"

"Yes. And we found water at the moment when we were most in need of it." Severus looked at the sky through the window. There were other things he had noticed on the mountain too…impressions, sensations…emotions, things that were alien to him but which he had not been able to avoid.

Albus was watching him. He then glanced sideways at Potter, who was now completely oblivious to the conversation, and smiled. "Of all the accounts I have read of those fortunate survivors," he said softly. "Another universal observation is that no one leaves the mountain unchanged."

Severus blinked. _That bloody…all-knowing…_ why was he surprised? Albus knew _everything!_ Of course, he would have sensed immediately that something had passed between Severus and Potter not at all like their usual vitriolic exchanges. He shot the headmaster a warning look and dropped his gaze—only to find himself looking at Potter again.

Lupin had conjured a pillow and shifted the boy into his lap without even waking him. Sound asleep, Potter was unaware of Snape's discomfited scrutiny.

It felt as though they had all been gone from Hogwarts for much longer than forty-eight hours. Severus found it highly disconcerting that he could not reconcile the Potter who had been the bane of his existence for five years with the battered, shaken child who had, for the most part, kept it together through all that had happened last night. It was not the sort of courage Severus expected to find in a Gryffindor.

Dumbledore's Phoenix flew through the window just then and settled himself on the floor of the carriage. Then, to everyone except Albus's surprise, he stopped at Snape's feet, trilling cheerfully at him.

Severus blinked, startled. Fawkes had never done that before.


	29. Alliances

"HARRY!"

Remus actually had to let Harry go and grab both Ron and Hermione around the waists, one in each arm, to keep them from knocking Harry off his feet when they entered the hospital wing. The two of them struggled blindly against him.

"Easy! Easy, you two! Calm down! Harry needs quiet!" he urged as Harry stepped around them, heading mechanically for his usual bed.

Ron and Hermione got a grip on themselves and slowly came to Harry's side, watching with anxious, tired eyes as he sank gratefully onto the mattress. "Are you okay, mate?" Ron whispered.

He was, he supposed, even though he felt more bone-tired than he had in a long time, his feet were all scuffed up from barefoot rock-climbing, and his bruises were sore. And he had a funny, tight feeling in his stomach, that queasy sense of not knowing exactly what to feel. He couldn't remember much of what had happened in the Fortress of Shadows, but what had taken place on the mountain was giving him quite enough to think about.

"I'm okay, I think," Harry sighed, looking at Ron. "Just tired. Hi, Mrs. Weasley," he said, forcing a smile as Ron's mother came to join them.

Mrs. Weasley was smiling, but her eyes were full. She had a pair of Harry's pajamas in her hands, but she set them down and pulled him into her arms. "Oh, Harry," she whispered. "Thank heavens. Thank heavens!"

"I'm all right," he murmured, feeling his throat tighten at once. He hated that—not her hugs (not at all) but the way he always reacted to them. She let him go, and he smiled weakly. "Really, I'm all right."

"You were so sick! And then, when you disappeared…we thought you were dead," Hermione said in a small voice.

"All right now, everyone calm down," said Madam Pomfrey, bustling over and setting up the screens. "Mr. Potter has had quite enough excitement. Change out of those filthy clothes, Harry," she told him in a gentler voice. "You'll be here for at least two days."

Numbly, Harry obeyed, but as he went behind the screens, he saw Madam Pomfrey returning to Professor Snape, who was grudgingly allowing her to treat his various injuries. His eyes met Harry's over her shoulder once, but Harry lost his nerve and ducked behind the screens. Once he got changed, he moved them away himself and climbed into the bed. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to be shut into any enclosed space.

Ron and Hermione came to sit with him, and he could see Remus talking to Professor Dumbledore. Why did he still feel so…nervous? Mrs. Weasley brushed a hand over his dirty hair. "All right, Harry?" she asked softly.

Harry nodded. "Yeah." He swallowed hard; he had to find something to think about! "What did I miss?"

Ron laughed weakly. "Nothing much. Just all of us getting flipping hysterical." Harry mustered a grin. "What did…I mean…if it doesn't bother you to talk about it…"

"Ron!" scolded Mrs. Weasley, but Harry shook his head.

"It's all right. I don't…really remember that much of the first part. I know I wound up in the Fortress, but then Remus and…Professor Snape brought me out. We spent the night on the mountain outside the Forest before Professor Dumbledore came with the Aurors." Harry avoided their eyes. He didn't think he could stand to go into detail now. At that moment, movement across the room caught his eye.

"Yes, you may go, but do not overexert yourself for the next few days," Madam Pomfrey was admonishing Snape as he straightened his robes and headed for the door.

"Sir!" Harry blurted, before he knew what he was doing. Snape paused, looking at him with a blank face, and he gulped. "I…I just wanted…er…for everything you…" he trailed off, feeling blood rush to his face as his nerve failed again.

An odd expression crossed Snape's face for a moment, but it was gone too quickly for Harry to identify it. Then the Potions Master slowly nodded. "Understood, Mr. Potter." As his friends watched in confusion, Harry nodded back, and Professor Snape headed out the hospital wing door and was gone.

He let out his breath slowly. He hadn't expected Snape to accept his gratitude. "What was that all about, mate?" Ron asked.

As Madam Pomfrey came over to the bedside carrying an entire tray of potions, Harry said, "He saved my life. Again. He and Professor Lupin. It was a big risk, and he got hurt, but…" he shook his head and took a vial Madam Pomfrey handed him.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want," said Hermione softly.

"What he _does_ have to do is rest," Madam Pomfrey said, shoving another potion at him. "Talk later."

"Can we still sit with him?" Ron pleaded, startling Harry.

"You may, but you are not to tire him!"

"Yes, ma'am! All right, Harry?"

Harry nodded, finishing his last potion and immediately starting to feel sleepy From the way Ron was reacting, he must have really been worried. "I'll tell you about it," he promised them. "Just…" he yawned heavily and leaned back on the pillows, "not right now. 'sa kinda long…story…mmm…"

* * *

_"Crucio!"_

Black-robed wizards writhed one after the other on the cold, wet stones at Harry's feet. There was no mercy to be had for any of them; he ignored their babbled apologies and shrieks for forgiveness. "You have failed me again. Again!" he hissed, his high, cold voice tight with rage. "The boy was in my power, and again, you allowed the traitor to take him from me!"

The wizard at his feet looked up, groaning, as Harry lifted the curse at last. "We'll get him back, Master! We will find a way!"

"You will, or you will all suffer! And you will kill the traitor!"

"Yes, Master!" sobbed the balding little wizard.

"Get up. We have no more time to waste here. Go to the meeting site and wait for me. All of you."

Cringing and quivering from their punishments, the Death Eaters filed out. Harry waited, standing at the large window and glaring out at the silver mountain beyond the Forest. Then he Disapparated, and the world re-formed in a clearing deep in the woods. He made his way to where the others awaited him, just outside a ring of tall torches.

The flames and the wizards' robes whipped in the high wind. In front of each torch stood a Death Eater, and more—many more—waited outside the Circle. Harry surveyed the scene with satisfaction—at least his followers had not rendered his plans a complete waste. He nodded briskly to the tall, masked wizard on his right. "Let the students have the privilege of witnessing tonight's ceremony. It will do them good."

"Yes, Master." The Death Eater leaned beyond the torch and beckoned. A small group of figures, definitely younger than the others, came close to the light but did not enter. Their hoods were raised, obscuring their unmasked faces, but Harry nodded to them. They bowed in return, his youngest recruits, future servants. The children of all his favored Death Eaters. In that at least, his followers had done well, raising their offspring to serve him.

Returning his gaze to the circle directly in front of him, Harry ordered, "Let the initiates approach!"

From the shadows without, more unmasked wizards and witches filed in, each escorted by a masked Death Eater. They came, more and more, until there was a very large crowd of black robes in the circle, although ample space remained in front of Harry himself. They waited silently for him to speak.

"We gather tonight to a great purpose," he declared, his voice carrying easily through the circle. "Tonight we join into our ranks the newest wizards and witches who have proven themselves worthy of service to me. They are welcomed because they have shown the will for our unrelenting search for power. They are welcomed because they have shown the strength to stand against the Mudbloods and their supporters. They have shown themselves fit to take the places we shall all occupy when those who oppose us are overthrown, and we have assumed our rightful position of absolute power!"

A great roar of affirmation went up from the Death Eaters. The initiates were silent, but Harry could sense their anticipation. There was an even stronger scent of excitement without, from the students. Harry turned to them.

"I summoned you here, my young candidates, that you may see the consummation of this vow to which you all aspire. In two years, when you have proven yourselves worthy, you shall take your places among us and enter our circle freely."

The children shifted eagerly, and Harry turned to their parents. "Bring your sons and daughters closer. Within the circle. Let them have a clear view of this goal."

It never hurt to stir the flame for those little moths. He watched as certain of his Death Eaters left the circle and brought back their children, leading them by the shoulder. They returned to their respective places with the youngsters standing in front of them.

Harry returned his attention to that night's initiates. "Advance," he ordered.

They did, nearly twenty strong, some young, some older, all powerful and pure-blooded. Worthy additions to his ranks; he took no useless servants. The first pair stepped forward. The sponsoring Death Eater, Avery, removed his mask.

"I present Nicholas Dawlish to your service, my lord."

"Come forward and swear your fealty, Dawlish," Harry ordered.

The wizard lowered the hood of his robe, revealing short gray hair, and stepped toward Harry, eyes lowered, kneeling to kiss the hem of his robes. "Master, I am at your command for as long as I live." He held out his left arm.

Harry touched his wand to the wizard's bare skin. _"Nectoviscus Morsmorde!"_

He saw, from the corner of his eye, the other Death Eaters' movement as their own flesh reacted to the new Dark Mark now burned black on Dawlish's arm. "Rise." Dawlish did, betraying none of the pain that Harry knew he had felt with the branding. Good. "Welcome, my servant. Join your fellow Death Eaters."

With a trembling bow, Dawlish followed Avery to the others, where they gave him a mask of his own to put on. The next pair advanced. The initiate was an astonishingly beautiful young witch, with deep golden hair and blue eyes that would appear innocent and artless to any outsiders. So much the better. Bellatrix Lestrange removed her mask. "I present Delilah Hornby to your service, my lord."

And so it went. Eighteen new Death Eaters received the Dark Mark in that ring of torchlight, and in the end, Harry was satisfied. He allowed the recruits to mingle with their fellows as the children were being escorted from the circle by their parents. "Wait."

Everyone froze. To the children, Harry ordered, "Lower your hoods."

Hesitantly, they did so and stood openly before him. Pansy Parkinson, flanked by both her parents, Millicent Bulstrode and her mother, Crabbe, Goyle, and their fathers, young Theodore Nott and his father, Montague and his mother, and, of course, Lucius and Draco Malfoy. "Each of you have committed yourselves to this service in two years' time," he told them. "Devote all your power and skill to me, and the power deserved by all our kind shall be yours. Remember that, my young followers. Your night is coming."

There was more than one excited intake of breath from the youngsters. As their parents escorted them out, Harry intercepted one pair. His father's hand on his shoulder was all that stopped Draco Malfoy from rocking back on his heels. The boy bowed hastily, and Harry smiled thinly at him. "I am pleased with you, Lucius. You have raised your son well. I sensed his eagerness above all the others."

"You are generous, Master," murmured Lucius, half-bowing.

Harry held up a hand, and Lucius released his son's shoulder. "Come to me, Draco."

Tension was at the forefront of the surge of emotions from the boy, but he did not hesitate to step toward his future master. Harry placed two fingers beneath the youth's chin and made him look up. Despite the fear that Harry expected—and enjoyed—he met Harry's gaze steadily. "You are a credit to your breeding, Draco. I have no doubt you will join your father at my right hand in time."

"I will, my lord," the boy whispered fiercely. Harry released him, and he stepped back to Lucius, whose grip on his shoulder was tighter still. Harry sensed that Draco was as delighted by his father's display of pride as by his lord's attention. Both were useful.

As they took their leave, Draco was greeted and praised by many of the others. "Until next time, son," said Rudolphus cheerfully, and Bella went so far as to kiss the boy on both cheeks. They had sensed that their lord wanted them to cultivate this one.

"I can't wait until I can stay," Harry heard Draco say to his father as they exited the circle.

"Patience," Lucius replied proudly. "Our lord favors you; your time will come."

Harry waited until all the children had been safely escorted out and their parents returned so the second half of the initiation could begin. The newcomers were already bracing themselves as they stood in front of the others.

"Dawlish," Harry called. The wizard came slowly to stand in front of him. _"Crucio!"_

And the circle filled with the newest Death Eaters' screams.

* * *

"Harry! Harry, wake up!"

 

Someone was shaking him vigorously. "Potter!"

Harry jerked out of sleep with a strangled gasp, looking instinctively at his hands. "He's cursing them," he panted, struggling against the restraining arms. "He sent the younger ones away so he could torture—"

"HARRY! Slow down!" Hermione's voice cut through the haze of panic. Blinking, he took his glasses from her and put them on, sighing heavily as the world came into focus.

He was still in the hospital wing; judging by the moonlight in the windows, it was late at night. Ron and Hermione were still with him, along with Mrs. Weasley, Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore, Tonks and Moody, and to Harry's surprise, Snape.

"What did you see, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry swallowed hard. For some reason, Snape's presence made him nervous. "Vol—I mean, the Dark Lord was initiating new Death Eaters. I couldn't…it lasted a long time, and I couldn't wake from it…"

"That's my fault," sighed Madam Pomfrey. "I gave him a heavy Sleeping Potion."

"'s all right," Harry muttered, drawing his knees up to his chest. "It wasn't bad…till the end. There were a lot of them."

Tonks and Moody groaned simultaneously. "That's all we need. How many?"

"Eighteen," said Harry. He started naming them, and Dumbledore motioned for silence, though the others hissed when they heard a name they recognized.

"Oh, Dawlish, you bloody fool," growled Moody when Harry finished.

Tonks pulled a face. "Delilah Hornby was a year behind me at the Auror Program. Talented witch, but doesn't like rules. If she's joined You-Know-Who, we're in trouble."

"Bloody hell," Moody muttered. "Two more Aurors gone bad. This is reminding me more and more of the last war. Dawlish was at the top of his class, and the Hornby girl has all the skill and charm of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy rolled together."

That triggered Harry's memory. "The Death Eaters had their children there too. Voldemort wanted them to watch the ceremony."

Snape stiffened. "Draco was there?"

Harry nodded. "And Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson and—"

Snape sprang to his feet and sprinted for the hospital wing fireplace. Dumbledore watched him go, then closed his eyes for a moment. "Who else do you remember, Harry?"

"Crabbe, Goyle, and Millicent Bulstrode are the only others I knew. But there were more," Harry said. "Voldemort sent them away before using the Cruciatus Curse on the new Death Eaters."

"He is a skilled recruiter," Dumbledore said grimly.

"Headmaster, can't anything be done to keep the Slytherins away from him?" asked Hermione.

"I can control their movements to some extent in school, Miss Granger, but I fear I have no claim upon their hearts. If they are set upon joining him, all I may do is delay it."

Harry sighed. "They don't know what they're getting into! Voldemort's keeping the worst of it from them. As soon as they join him, _then_ he'll start to torture them."

"As Severus knows all too well," said Dumbledore, patting his hand. "We will do what we can. You should continue to rest, Harry. Would you like some Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

"Yes, please," Harry murmured. The memory of the torch circle seemed burned into his head. They all seemed so…devoted. Even the ones who knew what Voldemort was going to do to them. _Why!_ Why would anyone want to live like that for some vague promise of power? Since when did kissing somebody else's robes and groveling on the ground and getting tortured make you powerful?

Along with everything else that had happened, it was becoming too much to think about, and when Madam Pomfrey came with his potion, he gratefully gulped it down.

* * *

When he woke again sometime later, Ron and Hermione were sitting on the bed next to his. Hermione was reading, and Ron was snoozing—with his head in her lap. Hermione noticed Harry watching them, blinked, and blushed, grinning sheepishly. "Feeling better?" she whispered.

 

"What day is it?"

"Tuesday. You woke up from the vision last night, Monday."

Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes. He did feel better, just tired now instead of weak and sick. "Did Professor Snape catch Malfoy and the others?"

Ron had awoken and sat up, pulling a face. "He caught them all right: Malfoy and Parkinson were snogging in a broom closet, Crabbe and Goyle managed to get into the boys' loo, and Nott and Bulstrode were snogging behind a suit of armor."

"Ergo, nobody can prove anything," sighed Hermione. "All Professor Snape could do was give them all detention for a week. He's supervising it himself, so with any luck that'll keep them all under supervision for now, but that won't last."

Harry shuddered. "That bad, mate?" asked Ron.

Shaking his head, Harry flopped across his bed and groaned, "They think they're going to be powerful. But they're just going to wind up torturing and killing people and _getting_ tortured whenever Voldemort's in a foul mood, and kissing the git's robes. No better than slaves."

"I read about his recruiting efforts in the first war. Voldemort's good at making attractive promises," said Hermione, but something in the way she glanced at Ron made Harry groan.

"What else has happened?"

Ron avoided his eyes, confirming that it wasn't good. "The top git's already making good use of his new lackies. They attacked Diagon Alley this morning."

Harry sat bolt upright. "Was anyone hurt?"

Miserably, his friends nodded. "We don't know much so far, but there were injuries."

"The twins?"

"They're okay, just really livid. Especially George. After what happened to Fred, he takes every Death Eater attack personally. Fred had to put him in a Body Bind to keep him from running out into the fray. We just got an owl saying they're fine, but nothing since. Classes are cancelled," Ron told him.

Harry frowned thoughtfully. "It must have been bad."

"There's no way to know yet," said Hermione. "But some of the teachers went to help. Professor McGonagall and Mr. McGonagall are gone, and Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout."

With another groan, Harry rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. "I am so ruddy tired of all this."

"Aren't we all, mate," said Ron, patting his back. "I just hope that was the last time you ruddy disappear on us!"

Peering over his arm at Ron, Harry smiled wearily. "Sorry about that. I guess it must have scared you."

Hermione nodded gravely. "Nobody knew what had happened to you. We thought…" she looked away.

"You thought I was dead?" They nodded. Harry sighed. "So did I, for awhile."

"What happened?" asked Ron. "Especially with Snape, the git's been here twice to see how you are!"

"Really?" Harry stared, and Hermione nodded confirmation. "Well…I guess you'd better get comfortable. It's a bit of a long story."

By the time he had finished, both their mouths were hanging open. "Remus kept his mind in full werewolf form?" Hermione gasped, delighted.

"I doubt if it'll happen again," said Harry. "There was something really odd about that mountain."

"What shape was the Boggart?" asked Ron.

"Huh?"

"How did you know what it was? What shape did it take?"

Harry swallowed. "Oh. Right. A…dementor. I guess it saw me first, and Professor Snape got rid of it."

"Did it change to anything for him?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I…guess there wasn't time. He was quick." Ron seemed to accept that, but Hermione shot Harry a doubtful look. To his relief, she didn't press. "I wonder how soon I can get out of here?"

"When classes resume, Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey, coming to join them. "Until then I want you off your feet—no arguments. We are not going down this same old road every time you wind up here. You leave when I say you leave." She shoved a dinner tray at him and walked off, muttering, "Your health's fragile enough as it is."

"I am _not_ fragile!" Harry exclaimed in outrage.

* * *

But Harry couldn't deny that even when he was released, he moved almost as slowly as he had in the first days of school. Fortunately, this time he wasn't the only one. The attack on Diagon Alley had been bad, according to the special edition of the _Daily Prophet_ that had arrived that evening. Many stores had been damaged, four people had died, and dozens had been hurt. Including, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were horrified to learn, Neville Longbottom's grandmother.

 

They met Neville outside the common room Wednesday morning after Harry got out of the hospital wing. Neville was carrying a rucksack for an overnight trip to London to visit his grandmother in St. Mungo's. "Oh, Neville, was it bad?" Hermione exclaimed.

Neville's face was drawn and pinched, but he shook his head. "Not too bad. They say she'll be able to leave in a few days. She just wanted to see me." He glanced around and lowered his voice, leaning toward them. "It was Bellatrix Lestrange."

Hermione put a hand over her mouth, and Harry felt his stomach lurch. "How'd you hear…"

"An Auror friend of the family. I asked him. He said it happened in front of a lot of witnesses. Lestrange knew who my gran was and…" Neville looked away, but he didn't look like he was going to cry. To Harry, he seemed to be shaking with fury. And Harry didn't blame him one bit.

"We'll get her, Neville. One day we'll get her," he promised.

"Bloody right we will," Neville growled, his fists clenched. He forced a smile at Ron and Hermione and gave Harry a little pat on the shoulder. "I'd better go. See you later?"

"Send us an owl if you need anything," said Hermione.

"When's the next DA meeting?" Neville asked, pausing at the top of the stairs.

"Ahhh…" Ron and Hermione looked at Harry.

Harry shrugged. "A lot of people are gone to visit St. Mungo's. Let's just make it…sort of…independent practice this week for anyone who shows up, and we'll do something more organized next time."

"Right then. See you Thursday."

"I'll copy my class notes for you, Neville!" Hermione called after him.

"Thanks!"

Scowling, Harry headed through the portrait hole. "The sooner somebody offs Bellatrix Lestrange the better."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, but Ron growled, "Right about that, mate."

"Don't talk that way, you two, you shouldn't joke about killing people!"

"Well, what else does she deserve!" Harry snapped, rounding on Hermione. She jumped in dismay, and even Ron stared at him. Harry caught himself, seeing other people in the common room, and said tightly, "Besides, I'm not bloody joking."

"Harry…" Hermione moaned, but Harry turned and stalked up the dormitory stairs.

Behind him, he heard Ron saying, "Just leave it. He's not in the mood."

"He's _never_ in the mood, that's what worries me! He's not in the mood to be reasonable anymore!"

* * *

Harry's mood didn't improve in the days and weeks that followed, as the wizarding world reeled under a growing onslaught of attacks from Voldemort's growing ranks. His dreams were filled with shadowy nightmares of the veil, Bellatrix Lestrange, and a big black dog being tormented by Death Eaters in the Fortress of Shadows. The wards on the dormitory were weakening, and once they failed, his visions came back full-force. That, of course, meant more Occlumency.

 

If Harry no longer dreaded the lessons because of Snape's sadistic enjoyment of his misery, the awkwardness that had replaced it didn't help much. Of course, Snape was anything but friendly. Harry knew better than to expect that (and didn't especially want it either.) But the awareness of all that had transpired on the mountain hung over them like a cloud, and neither could seem to wave it away.

Nothing was the same anymore.

Not that Harry and Snape were the only ones living under a cloud. Students walked around school with heads hanging, shoulders hunched with tension, especially if an owl flew toward the teachers' table at an unusual time. Everyone waited for news of the next round of casualties. And there were lots of casualties.

Hermione used her tips from Rita Skeeter to keep a step ahead of the newspapers, which gave them something of an advanced warning of the rising call for action by the Ministry about the threats from the Death Eaters…and Harry.

"Nothing's being released to the papers yet," Hermione told them one day at lunch. "But Rita's getting some gossip from people in the lower levels of the Ministry: there are meetings going on. Talks of new Educational Decrees and the like."

"Meaning they're going after Dumbledore again," said Ron, losing interest in his sandwich.

Harry folded his arms on the table to rest his head as Hermione replied, "Not going after him, just trying to overrule him. 'For the greater safety of the student body' or some other such nonsense. Rita thinks Fudge is obsessed with getting to Harry."

" _Why!_ " Ron demanded. "What can he possibly hope to accomplish!"

"A one-up against Dumbledore," growled Hermione "That's what." She reached past Ron to pat Harry's hand. Harry noticed they had both taken to doing that lately, along with Ginny—constantly poking, tapping, or patting him as though to reassure themselves that he was really there. It was alternately annoying and comforting.

"What she's saying is Fudge is off his rocker," he told Ron. "Remus told me Fudge likes to kill the messenger. I'm the messenger."

"Can't Percy do anything?" groaned Ron.

Hermione shook her head. "Percy's in enough trouble. Fudge is convinced Dumbledore has spies in the Ministry, and he's constantly hauling staff in for questioning. If Percy mucked around with the hearings on Harry, he'd get caught."

"Blimey, I hope he'll be okay."

"What's the worst that could happen? He'd get fired and come home," said one of the twins.

"Or sent straight to Azkaban," said Ginny darkly. "I wish he'd quit that job. I don't like him being there. He's in danger from two sides."

" _Our_ side will take care of him if anything happens," said Hermione firmly. "Let's just hope this all blows over."

* * *

If spirits were low among the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs, there was one group at Hogwarts that definitely did not seem to be feeling the weight of the war. In the days after that first vision of the initiation, Harry and his friends couldn't help but notice the change in Draco Malfoy and many of his friends. The Death Nibbler-in-Chief, (as Ron dubbed him) practically bounced down the corridors between classes, looking more impressed with himself than ever. He became less confrontational with Harry and Professor Snape and the other Houses, but wore smugness like a designer cloak.

 

Harry watched his posturing in Defense one day with disgust. "He thinks he's got it made because he got personal attention from Voldemort," he whispered to Ron and Hermione as the bell rang.

She shuddered as they waved to Remus and headed out the door. "Why anyone in their right mind would _want_ his attention is beyond me."

Pansy Parkinson was simpering along behind Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle in the corridor and elbowed Hermione out of the way. "Stand aside, Granger! Let the proper wizards through first."

Hearing Malfoy's chuckling ahead of them, Harry snapped, "Yeah, everyone better clear the way for Voldemort's future chief bootlicker!"

Gasps rang out, and predictably, Malfoy spun around. Ron grabbed Harry's arm, but Harry shook him off. He wanted to make that stupid, _stupid_ Slytherin good and mad, and let him know just how astronomically stupid he really was. At least the adrenaline rush was burning away some of the frustrated tension.

On the other hand, it was being replaced by an almost unbearable temptation to smash Malfoy's sneering face. "You don't realize who you're dealing with anymore, Potter. You'd better watch your mouth," Malfoy drawled.

"Or what? You'll _Crucio_ me like your friend Bellatrix Lestrange? Or use the Killing Curse like your dad?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Malfoy retorted and turned to go.

"No?" Harry sneered. "How'd you like Voldemort's little initiation party? Must've made you proud, getting personal attention from the red-eyed git, hearing him congratulate your dad on training you to be a proper little house elf!"

Pansy's mouth fell open, and Malfoy turned dead white. "Wha—what're you—"

Gleefully, Harry dug deeper, "Yeah, that's right, I saw it! You're an idiot, Malfoy, you're all idiots. Want to know what happened after your mummies and daddies sent you home?"

"Shut up, Potter! SHUT UP!" Malfoy roared, whipping out his wand, but Harry's was already pointed at him.

"Your dad's boss welcomed all his new 'servants' with the bloody Cruciatus Curse! That what you've got in mind for a job? The git torturing you for fun?" Harry spat.

Crabbe and Goyle blanched, glancing at Malfoy, who hissed, "You're a liar."

"Think that if you want, but keep crawling along after Voldemort, and you'll find out first hand who's got the _real_ power—"

"Harry, that's enough!" Someone grabbed his arm, and he turned to see Professor Lupin. Pushing through the crowded students from the opposite direction was Professor Snape. "Clear the corridor, all of you!" said Lupin. "Harry, Draco, I—"

"I will see to my House, thank you, Professor Lupin," said Snape curtly. "Slytherins, with me." Over the rebellious mutters, he roared, "NOW!" Shooting Harry a last, furious glare, Malfoy scurried with the others.

"Harry." As the adrenaline and disgust at the junior Death Eaters wore off, Harry felt the first twinges of apprehension as he turned to face Professor Lupin again. Remus's face was carefully calm as he motioned to the classroom door. "Hermione, Ron, run along, please."

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said, and gave Harry a helpless look as they headed down the hall.

Harry followed Lupin quietly back into the classroom and found that it was hard to look him in the eye. He stared at his feet instead and waited for the ball to drop. "Tea?"

"No," he muttered, not looking up.

Silence echoed for several moments until it was almost unbearable, then he winced inwardly as Lupin said, "That was irresponsible, Harry."

"I know," he sighed miserably.

"Why did you do it, then?"

"Because I'm sick of this!" Harry burst out in frustration. He managed not to shout, and hoped Lupin realized he wasn't the one Harry was angry at. "I'm sick of all this…this…mincing about! There's a war on, and those little gits are working for the other side, and nobody's doing anything!"

"Harry, first of all, calm down. The way I showed you," Remus said firmly. Harry tried to breathe, but the hot, churning mass of frustrated anger made it hard. "Sit for a minute." He obeyed, glaring at the desk top. He wanted to hit it. "Harry…"

"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "I'm trying, I just…I can't be calm all the time!"

Remus sighed and sat down on the edge of the desk. "I know. I do know this isn't easy on you."

 _That's what Dumbledore always says,_ Harry thought bitterly. He hated that heat in his stomach. He wished it would go away. It was keeping him from being comforted by Remus's quiet voice as he usually was.

"I won't talk about…the vision again. Can I go now?" he tried, but failed to keep the resentment out of his voice.

"Harry…"

"What's the point of this!" he demanded. Remus was hiding something—as usual—Harry was certain of it. Whatever the Order was up to, they were keeping him in the dark—like always. "I don't know what's going on, and you're not going to tell me! You can't because ruddy Dumbledore won't let you! Just let me go!"

Remus looked sympathetically at him. _Stop it!_ "All right. I'll see you later."

Harry left in a hurry and met Ron and Hermione for lunch. "What happened?" Ron demanded. "He didn't yell at you, did he?"

"Might as well have," Harry muttered. "They're planning something. I can tell."

"Well…" Hermione pushed a sandwich toward him and said, "That's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah, except that as usual none of us is allowed to know anything," Harry groused.

"Come on, mate, be reasonable!" Ron exclaimed. "You…" he lowered his voice and leaned toward them. "Anything you find out, Voldemort could!"

Harry sighed heavily. "I know, I bloody know! I just…I hate this!" Hermione tried to rub his back, but he shook her hand off. "Don't, I'm not in the mood."

What reply Hermione would have made was forestalled by a flock of owls soaring into the Great Hall with rolled-up newspapers in their beaks and claws. "Oh no…another special edition."

On Harry's other side, Neville sat stiffly as the birds swooped down. Ginny reached over to squeeze Neville's shoulder. "Your gran hasn't been going out much since Diagon Alley, has she?"

Neville shook his head. "Only when she needs to." He took a deep breath as the papers were handed out. "Brace yourselves."

The Great Hall was unnaturally quiet as people snagged papers and opened them. Then sighs of relief echoed and conversations sprang up as the headline was revealed to be nothing involving death and destruction, but Ron, looking at the headline, was frowning. "Ron? What is it?" asked Ginny.

With a puzzled face, Ron turned the paper around so Harry, Ginny, and Neville could see the front page:

**_Ministry of Magic Launches Massive Investigation, Minister Revealed to be Victim of Memory Tampering!_ **

Harry's blood froze. "That's very odd," Hermione was saying as she scanned her own copy. "Could this be a farce or do you think someone actually—Harry? What's the matter?" she asked, seeing his white face.

 _This is all my fault…_ "I should talk to Dumbledore," Harry murmured. This was it. If Percy was found out… _they'll go after both him and me. And the rest of the Weasleys. All because of me, he'll wind up in Azkaban!_

Ron and Ginny were watching him. "Harry," said Ginny in a very low voice. "Do you know something?"

Harry nodded mutely. He couldn't…he'd promised Percy…but he had to do something…

He was let off the hook when Hermione, as usual, figured it out. Her mouth fell open. "Oh my God." Keeping her voice barely above a whisper, she breathed, "It was Percy."

Ron and Ginny stared from Hermione to Harry, then they both buried their faces in their hands. "That's why Fudge didn't go after you the first time, isn't it?" Ron moaned.

Harry nodded helplessly. "He made me swear I wouldn't tell you, but he thought I should know how far Fudge would go." He looked at Hermione. "Will they find out it was him?"

Hermione looked at the paper. "If they do _Priori Incantatem_ tests on the staff's wands…which they are. Oh lord, this is bad."

"What'll happen to him?"

"Knowing Fudge? I don't want to imagine!"

Harry stood up. "I'm going to go talk to Remus. He'll know something."

* * *

Harry caught Remus coming out of the Great Hall. "Re—Professor, can I talk to you? It's important."

 

Carrying a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from lunch, Remus raised his eyebrows, and Harry nodded significantly at it. "Let's go back to my office." They walked there in silence and took seats by the fireside and Harry sat back in the chair to hear what Remus had to say. "So Percy told you?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "What's the Order going to do?"

Remus stared into the fire, then looked at Harry. He hesitated for a moment. "This is going to be unpleasant. I'm sure Hermione has already had it from her resident source on Ministry gossip. I'm afraid Cornelius Fudge is up to his old tricks, trying to stir up trouble for Dumbledore."

Harry snorted. "Is Fudge trying to get him removed as Headmaster again?"

Remus shook his head. "No, he won't try that. There's still too much bad press around from his last effort. No, Harry, after everything that happened with the Quidditch attack and your possession by Voldemort last month, he's calling for Dumbledore to be censured for failing to protect the students. Trying to place a black mark on his otherwise perfect record."

"What a swine!" Harry exploded. "As if we need to be wasting time on things like that!"

Remus fixed troubled eyes on Harry. "Fudge is doing this because he can't figure out how to respond to the threat of Voldemort. They know about his increasing recruitment not only because of the bolder attacks, but because Dumbledore reported your vision. He's calling again for you to be removed from Hogwarts immediately and placed under Ministry supervision indefinitely."

For a moment, Harry thought he was going to be sick. He stared at Lupin. "Remus, they can't...they won't..."

Remus shook his head. "No, Harry. They can't and they won't. Not while Dumbledore is here. In fact, not while Minerva or Severus or any of the staff are here." He took a very slow, deep breath, in the same manner that he'd taught Harry to calm down when he was agitated. "Not while I am alive will Cornelius Fudge use you as a pawn."

There had to be more to this. Remus was as upset as Harry had ever seen him. If there was no danger that he could be forcibly removed, then the problem was…something else. "Remus, what's going on?"

Remus hesitated. "Steps are being taken, Harry. We hope to have a resolution to the situation soon—well, part of the situation anyway." He pulled a face. "You have to understand that I can't go into detail."

There _was_ something there, something Lupin wasn't telling him. "But what about Percy? What will happen when they find out about the Memory Charm?"

"You have to trust us in this," Remus urged him. "Percy will be all right. Remember, we have other friends in the Ministry; you have nothing to be worried about."

"Then what are _you_ so worried about?" Harry pleaded. "Something else is happening, I can tell!"

Remus looked directly at Harry. "This isn't an easy thing for me to say to you, Harry, but try to understand. From this point on, we can tell you nothing. You have to be kept completely in the dark. That's the only way we can be sure that there is no possibility that what we plan will be picked up by Voldemort."

Harry sat, feeling frustrated, let-down, and confused, then suddenly found himself angry, overwhelmingly so. "That's just great! Keep me in the dark just like Dumbledore did last year! Who'll get killed this time because I'm stumbling around in the dark with Death Eaters chasing after me?"

Remus flinched—sharply—and Harry instantly felt ashamed, but frustration still churned hot and poisonous in his insides, and he couldn't muster the effort to apologize.

He just got up and walked out the door.

* * *

Changed circumstances with Harry notwithstanding, Snape was in full Potions Master mode. He stood in front of the class, arms folded across his chest, sneering down at them. "This 'Sealing Potion' can be applied to windows, doors, or any sort of entrance. Applied with the proper spells and wards, it can make a building virtually inpenetrable. It is a very volatile mixture. Take special care while preparing it. I don't want any accidents."

 

Harry sat on the stool, head down, barely paying attention. He'd refused to answer questions from Ron and Hermione as to why he was so upset. He fumed, aware that he was being completely irrational but too frustrated to care, as the conversation with Remus repeated itself in his mind. _Like I'm a liability, not to be trusted! Like all the progress I've made in Occlumency is worthless!_

"Harry!" Hermione sounded exasperated. "I've set out all the ingredients. Come on! We've got to get started."

Hermione read the instructions as Harry added the ingredients to the cauldron. He found it impossible to concentrate, and Hermione's repeated scoldings of "Slower, Harry, slower!" just served to infuriate him more.

Finally, as Hermione turned away for a moment, Harry picked up the next ingredient and dumped the entire contents of the vial into the mix. The cauldron erupted with a roar, white-hot flames shot towards the ceiling—and Hermione screamed as the back of her hair and her robe caught fire.

Snape whirled around, pulling out his wand in one motion and sending off two spells. The first extinguished the flames on Hermione. The second doused the fire roaring out of the cauldron. Moving across the room even as he aimed the spells, Snape reached her in a matter of seconds and lifted the mass of singed hair to look at her back.

"No burns. You are exceedingly lucky, Miss Granger. Perhaps this incident will teach you, if nothing else, never to turn your back on Potter."

Harry stood horrified. His eyes took in the melted cauldron, Hermione standing tearful and shaken, and Snape bearing down on him. It dimly struck him that this was still different from all the grudge-driven, retaliatory chewing-outs Snape had given him in the past. Now the professor was simply—and rightly—furious.

"Potter, your stupidity and carelessness have finally caused serious damage. One hundred points from Gryffindor! And I shall be discussing with the Headmaster the wisdom of allowing you to remain in this class. Now...clean up this mess!"

The rest of the students began to file out, as Harry attempted to gather up any salvageable materials. Hermione stopped him. Her voice was shaking. "Harry, your temper. You have _got_ to learn to control it." He felt miserable, looking at her tear-streaked face and mass of burnt hair. Before he could reply, she whirled and hurried out the door, covering her mouth to stifle her sobs.

By the time Harry finished cleaning up the debris from the exploded cauldron and left class, Ron was waiting for him right outside the classroom door. He pounced on Harry with as much fury as Snape had, in his own way.

"Harry, you are one stupid git! There are enough people in hospital right now without you sending more there just because you are _ticked off_! And you are bloody lucky that you didn't seriously hurt her, or I'd be sending you there myself!" he bellowed.

Harry rocked back on his heels from the force of the words and managed to choke out, "Is she okay?"

"No, she's bloody not okay; she's completely shaken up, and I had to leave her to come tell you what I've wanted to tell you for awhile: bloody get it together, Potter, because I am _sick_ of you taking out your temper on Hermione and me!" With that, Ron turned and stalked back down the corridor.

A noise from behind him made Harry glance around. Snape was standing in the classroom doorway. In an astonishingly mild voice, he remarked, "Hell appears to have frozen over; I believe I have just witnessed a blinding burst of wisdom from that boy."

Harry ran. He took the stairs two at a time and plowed through groups of first and second years, not really sure where he was trying to go until he found himself staggering, with aching legs, pounding heart, and burning lungs, back in the DADA Corridor. Driven by a desperation he couldn't begin to explain, he burst into the office without even knocking. Professor Lupin was already on his feet, leaning toward the door in surprise.

"Remus, I'm sorry! This morning…I'm so sorry."

Remus crossed the distance between them in a few quick strides and put an arm around him. "Harry, come over here—sit down. Harry, it's all right."

Harry put his head down on the arm of the chair, balling his fists as he tried to catch his breath and keep from losing it. It took several failed attempts at calming down before he could raise his head and look at Remus without breaking down. "Whew!" Remus let his breath out. "You had me scared there, Harry."

Harry gave a shaky laugh. Remus produced a cup of hot, sweet tea. Neither spoke while Harry drank it down. It did make him feel better. He tried again. "Remus, I'm really…"

Lupin interrupted him. "Don't, Harry. It's not necessary. I knew you wouldn't react well to what I had to tell you."

"No, I was completely wrong, and you were right not to tell me—"

"—And you know that now, that's all that matters." Remus said firmly. "I'm not angry."

Harry gave a sigh of relief, fighting against the emotions still tightening his throat. "Thanks. I was afraid that this time I'd really…"

Remus stopped him again. "Don't ever think that, Harry." He smiled. "After all, if I could deal with the temperaments of James and Sirius all those years, I'm well able to deal with yours."

Harry rubbed his stinging eyes, completely disgusted with himself. "I don't know why I keep…messing up this way," he muttered.

"Don't be ashamed," Remus told him. "You're holding up very well."

"Holding up well!" Harry exclaimed, looking up at him. "If you'd seen what I did to Hermione in Potions—I…I…I _burned_ her, Remus! All because I was angry and—"

"You burned her deliberately?" Remus interrupted.

Harry shook his head distractedly, "Well, no, I wasn't trying to burn her, just mess up the Potion, it was _so stupid!_ "

Remus's laugh startled him out of his agitation. "Yes, it was. But you didn't mean to hurt her, correct?" Harry shook his head. Remus put a hand on his shoulder. "Then calm down and forgive yourself. I somehow doubt she will hold a grudge."

Furious at the lump in his throat returning yet again, Harry muttered, "No, she just says I need to control my temper. Ron's the one who's ready to strangle me."

"Well, you did maim his girlfriend," Remus said, smiling gently. Harry groaned and buried his face in his arms.

"I hate this, Remus! I hate this! I want it all to stop, I wish I was dead!"

"Harry, no!" Remus knelt down next to his chair, catching his arm and forcing him to look at him. "Don't say that."

"It's my _fault!_ " Harry cried. "Hermione's hair is half-burned off, Neville's gran is afraid to go out, and Percy's going to be arrested—"

"Harry, _listen!_ " Remus insisted, grabbing him by the shoulders. Harry bit back the rest of his hysterical words and forced himself to sit still. Remus looked more haggard than ever. There was as much pain in his voice as there had been that night in the Department of Mysteries. But he seemed desperate to make Harry listen, so Harry did. "Listen to me. You are involved. No one can deny that. But being involved and being at fault are two very different things. It was to protect you that Percy Obliviated Cornelius Fudge. But you are not to _blame._ Would you blame Percy for failing to prevent Fudge from finding out about your possession in the Great Hall?"

"I…" Harry blinked. "No, of course not."

"Why not?" Remus asked.

"Because…" taking a deep breath, Harry said slowly, "because there's...nothing he could do about it."

Remus smiled and nodded. "Now do you understand? You're a sixteen-year-old wizard still in school being targeted by a madman for something that happened before you were born. You are not responsible in any way for protecting Neville's grandmother or Percy's career. What happened to Hermione…well, you are responsible for that, but you know what you must do to make sure it doesn't happen again, don't you?" Harry smiled weakly and got up, wandering to the window just for something to do. Remus came to stand beside him. "And don't worry about Percy. He's being taken care of."

"What'll happen to him? Ron and Ginny are really worried. Fudge could do worse than sack him."

"If the worst should happen, we will take him to Headquarters. He can lie low there. The time is coming soon when even an incompetent like Fudge will have to pay attention to the war rather than petty grievances." Harry had to laugh, and Remus put an arm around his shoulders.

Gratefully, Harry let himself lean against the werewolf, watching the stars come out. One in particular, brighter than the others to him at least, caught his eye and before he knew it, he asked, "Remus, do you ever look at…"

He felt Remus tense beside him, but then he chuckled. "I was just thinking the same thing. Yes, I look at the Dog Star quite often. It's rather hard to shake the superstitions you're raised with." Harry watched the star brighten as the sky darkened, and sighed, closing his eyes. "I know," Remus said softly. "I…I miss him too. Always."

Harry nodded, then slowly asked a question that had been nagging him for some time. "Did he…did Sirius ask you to…you know…"

"To look after you?" Remus finished. When Harry dared a glance at him, the werewolf was smiling sadly. "Many times. Long ago, in fact, Sirius first asked me before he became Secret Keeper to your parents—or at least when he let me believe he'd become Secret Keeper." Remus sighed, and looked much older than Harry knew him to be. "Then there were several times at Grimmauld Place." Suddenly he glanced at Harry, seeming a little apprehensive. "You realize, Sirius's incessant demand that I repeat the promise had nothing to do with any reluctance on my part."

Genuinely surprised, Harry blurted, "No, I never thought that!"

Remus swallowed hard and smiled. "Good. The reason was that you mean—meant more to Sirius than anything else in the universe. Even if he had known…what would happen at the Department of Mysteries, I know for a fact he would not hesitate to go after you again. That's why I don't want you to blame yourself for...his death. You shouldn't hate yourself for his loving you."

Harry swallowed thickly and said, "I've been having nightmares about him."

Remus tensed sharply. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Harry blinked and looked at him. "They're not visions, I mean…they can't be!"

Remus stepped away from him and leaned against the windowsill, breathing slowly again. "Yes, of course. But if you're having nightmares, perhaps talking would still help." He patted Harry's shoulder. "You've been so tired lately."

Walking closer to the window and watching the star, Harry sighed, "I've been dreaming about him since he died," Remus winced, "but it got worse after the Fortress of Shadows. I…you don't think Voldemort would just send me nightmares for the fun of it, do you?"

Remus snorted sourly, sounding like Snape. "He might. What are the…new nightmares?"

Harry swallowed hard. He hated thinking about them. "He's Snuffles. And they're torturing him." Remus's breath caught, and he abruptly straightened and hugged him. Harry cringed. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to make you—"

"Don't apologize, Harry, not for that. You can…always talk to me about Sirius."

Harry nodded, which was hard to do considering how hard Remus was hugging him, but cringed inwardly. Talking about Sirius obviously hurt Remus a lot, and Harry didn't want to do that. He'd hurt Remus enough today. "Thanks," he finally said. Remus smiled and let him go. "Listen…whatever's happening…whatever the Order is planning…you'll be careful?"

Remus blinked at him, then smiled. "I will. I promise, Harry. As long as it's within my power, I'll never let you be left alone." Harry swallowed hard past the lump in his throat and smiled. "Off with you now."

"Good night." Harry gave him a little wave from the doorway before closing it behind him. He still had to deal with Ron, and Hermione and her singed hair, but after talking with Remus, he felt strong enough again.

* * *

Only seconds after the door closed behind Harry, a rustle from near the desk sent Remus spinning around, wand out. Severus Snape appeared from beneath Harry's Invisibility Cloak, smirking. "Good lord, Severus, don't do that! You'll give me a heart attack!" Snape merely smirked again. "How long have you been back?"

 

"I never left," Severus replied, draping the cloak over his arm. "And I'm infinitely grateful to you for confiscating this thing."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "And you say Harry has no regard for privacy."

"When I Floo'd here, I hardly expected that the boy would come barreling in five minutes later. There was no way out of the room without alerting him to my presence once he had closed the door."

Rolling his eyes, Remus turned back to the window. "After all your years as a spy, don't hand me a line that you can't sneak out of a classroom past a hysterical teenager while you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak."

"I was concerned that your attachment to Potter would lead you to say something unwise," Snape said from behind him.

"For God's sake! I don't pretend to be impartial where Harry's concerned, but grant that I'm not a fool. I'm not about to tell him about Sirius until we know for sure what's happened to him," Remus said, his guts twisting at the thought.

Snape tossd a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. "Headmaster! We are ready here."

Professor McGonagall poked her head through. "There's been a slight delay, gentlemen. Albus and I must get Percy Weasley settled."

"Oh dear," said Remus, heading closer. "It's happened, then?"

She nodded gravely. "Young Mr. Weasley is rather distressed, and we had a difficult time getting him from the Ministry building without attention."

"Is Fudge here looking for him?" asked Severus.

"Yes. As soon as the coast is clear, we will send Weasley to Headquarters."

"We'll sit tight, then," said Remus, leaning back against a desk.

Snape held up the Invisibility Cloak. "Perhaps this will be of use."

Minerva wrinkled her nose. "Possibly, given the Minister's current state of mind." She held out a hand, and Severus passed it to her.

"Take care of it. It's Harry's," Remus said before he could stop himself. Severus shot him a withering look, but Minerva nodded, smiling faintly.

"I thought as much, having seen James Potter and certain cohorts employing it once upon a time. We will see you shortly." She vanished.

Silence fell. Remus glanced at Severus and saw the scowl on his face. "Honestly, Severus, let it go."

The Potions Master's head jerked toward Remus. "Easy for you to say, werewolf. Always so easy for you to say."

Remus wandered over to the tank by his desk to watch the grindylow. James had loved the things. He'd kept one in a tank himself until he married Lily, then Sirius had taken it. What had ever happened to that grindylow? Remus had no idea; someone must have taken it away after Sirius went to Azkaban. "Harry's nothing like James at this age," he remarked.

"I know."

 _Well, well!_ He hadn't expected that—well, he knew Severus knew it, but hardly expected him to admit it. Carefully, Remus pushed a little further. "I know what kind of boys they were, Severus. I can't excuse the things they…the things _we_ did." Snape shifted, but did not retort. "But he grew into a good man, you know that. The two of you never had the chance to work _together_ , but you were on the same side."

"Stop it, Lupin, there's sap oozing off the walls. Yes, yes, we were, in the end. But even if I had ever managed to set aside my feelings about Potter, he would never have stopped thinking of me as the enemy."

"You're wrong," Remus said bluntly. Severus stared at him. Softening his stance a little, he said, "James learned a great deal from Lily. At Dumbledore's word, he would have trusted you."

Severus stared at him for a long moment, then recovered his trademark sneer. "Perhaps, but seeing as the man is dead, it's a moot point. And Black _never_ grew up."

"He never had the chance to, did he?" The words were sad, but Remus smiled inwardly as they struck home. _Quite an impact, that time with Harry had on you._

He could tell by the fact Severus did not launch into denials and justifications, but instead looked away, troubled thoughts running across his eyes. On the other hand, there were some things even Harry's company could not change. Unable to deny, Severus instead attempted a diversion. "And that does not concern you, Lupin? Putting the boy back in Black's less-than-wholesome influence?"

Remus shrugged. "Harry's sixteen. He's surrounded by less-than-wholesome influence—although I think you don't give Sirius enough credit. Whatever failings circumstance has left him with, he loves Harry more than life itself, as you've seen firsthand…twice."

Something glinted in Snape's eyes, and he curled his lip. "And as you say, the boy worships the dog. Are you prepared to return to second place in your cub's heart?"

Remus blinked at him, then laughed out loud. "You're doing it again, Severus."

"What, being a 'greasy git?'"

"No, you're getting your archenemies mixed up. Before it was Harry and James."

"I'm not confusing you with Potter," Snape said indignantly.

"No," Remus told him. "You're confusing me with Sirius. He's Harry's godfather; I've never been jealous of their relationship—well, a little perhaps, but not resentful."

Predictably, Snape snorted. _Poor Severus, you cannot understand the worth of caring about the happiness of someone else, can you?_

And Severus did not, for he remarked, "Perhaps you can convince yourself of that now, but you may find yourself singing a different tune when Black returns."

"Harry's happiness will never be cause for my resentment," Remus informed Severus calmly.

"Your selflessness is admirable, Lupin, but I doubt Black will be so obliging," Severus sneered.

Remus sighed, supposing it was too much to hope that Severus would ever break the habit of needling people for amusement. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he said, even though he did.

In a sly drawl, the Potions Master remarked, "As you yourself admit, Black has never grown up. Will he be as accepting as you of your changed relationship with the boy?"

"As you overheard," Remus said curtly, "it was what he wanted."

"If he died. But if by some miracle he should return alive, I doubt it will escape him that it is now your shoulder Potter cries on."

"That's crass, Severus," Remus said, having no other real reply to offer. "And unimportant. Besides, this is not only about Harry."

"No?"

Remus turned to face him. "No. Sirius Black is my best friend left on this earth. I thought I had lost him. Now that I know it isn't so…I'm going after him. I'm getting him back. For Harry and for me."

He turned back to the window as silence fell once again.

"Somehow I doubt if a distraction from Albus will work twice," said Severus at last.

Remus let out his breath. "At least Harry's nightmares prove Sirius is still alive. But you're right about the distraction."

"When the headmaster arrives, we'll have to come up with something else, then."

Remus turned slowly to meet Severus Snape's eyes. "We?"

Severus's face was completely blank, stony. "Yes."

Remus could not think of anything to say then, which was just as well because he knew Severus would not care to hear any of the half-formed thoughts spinning around in his head. Instead, he went back to the window to seek out one point of light in an endless sky. It was dimmer now, hidden in the masking glow of the waning moon, but it was still there.

Still there.

He didn't care if Severus heard him.

"Hold on. I'm coming. We're coming."


	30. The Problem of the Empty House

The entire castle seemed to be conspiring against Harry getting back to Gryffindor Tower. It took three false starts, and directions from the Grey Lady before Harry found himself on a landing overlooking the staircase that would normally lead to the portrait hole. All adjoining staircases had swung away, and Harry was stranded for several minutes. Finally, another staircase hooked up, and he headed wearily up the stairs and gave the password to the Fat Lady.

When he got into the common room, he heard Ron and Hermione's voices and started quickly for the dormitory stairs. "Harry, _wait_." Hermione sounded exasperated. "We've been searching for you all over the castle."

Harry froze where he was, staring downward. He didn't want to turn around and see Hermione with her singed hair. "Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron didn't sound angry, just confused. "This place has turned into a labyrinth. You have to go backwards, forwards, and upside-down to get anywhere. What's going on?"

"I don't know." Harry took a deep breath. "Hermione, I'm…I'm so sorry…I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Harry, it's all right," Hermione said from behind him. "I don't hate you for it, it was an accident! Won't you please look at me?" she pleaded.

Harry sighed and turned around, then winced. Hermione had been forced to cut most of her hair off. It was now curling around her face, only just below her chin. Miserably, he said, "I can't believe I did that to you."

"Oh, Harry, stop feeling guilty and look at her!" Ginny exclaimed, coming to join him. "Don't you think it's cute?"

"What?" Harry blinked, then said hastily, "Uh, yeah, sure—it looks really great, Hermione." Soft snorts from the other girls now gravitating in their direction told him he wasn't convincing. Hermione rolled her eyes. He supposed it looked all right—at least she hadn't had to shave her head or anything—but the knowledge that he'd been the reason for her drastic change in hairstyle made it hard to see it as a good thing.

"Cheer up, mate," said Ron. "No real harm done. You should've seen this lot when we got back," he added, gesturing at Lavender, Parvati, and Ginny. "They pounced all over her with hair potions and styling charms."

Harry smiled weakly. "That's nice. Really, it looks very nice," he told Hermione. "I'm just sorry you…you know…couldn't do it by choice."

Throwing her hands into the air, Hermione exclaimed, "Apologies accepted, Harry, all fifty of them! Now stop feeling bad about it before I hex all _your_ hair right off!"

Harry had to grin.

* * *

 

"Any news from Percy?" he asked Ron later when they were getting ready for bed.

Ron flopped onto his bed and swatted the curtains. "All McGonagall would say is they smuggled him out of the Ministry to bring him here so they can get him to Headquarters."

"He's here now?"

"He was, but Fudge and the Ministry are still searching the school, so we couldn't see him. They just made a Portkey and sent him on."

"Merlin's beard," Harry groaned. "Percy's a fugitive."

Ron pulled a face and nodded. "McGonagall says he's really upset."

"But he'll be okay, right? He'll be safe at least," said Harry.

"That's what Ginny said. We'll all see him when the hols start."

"Well…at least your family'll all be together for Christmas this year," Harry sighed. "So your mum can give everyone their jumpers."

Ron agreed absently, "Yeah, and Hermione's family will be there too, so it will be a wonderful holiday—oh, blimey, I'm sorry, Harry!"

Harry swallowed thickly. "'s all right. I'm glad Percy's come round and…you're all together. Really," he said, seeing Ron's doubtful face. He turned away and walked over to the window, watching the snow beginning to fall.

"Harry…will you be okay?" Ron asked tentatively.

Crawling into bed, Harry said quickly, "Yeah. I'll be there, remember?"

"I know, but will you be _okay?_ "

Harry sighed. "For Christmas, you mean?" Ron nodded solemnly, getting the "Hermione look" as Harry had come to call it. "Not really, but…there's nothing to really…make it better, I guess. I'll just get through it."

"I don't want you to be sad on Christmas, mate."

"I'll try not to be. Really, but…" Harry looked away from his friend's sad gaze. "I can't stop missing him, Ron. Especially at Christmas." He forced a smile. "I'll…I'll try to have fun though."

"He'd want you to," Ron said. "And it might not be so bad with the house full of people. We can distract. I know the twins will."

"Yeah!" Harry said brightly, but only to reassure Ron.

_You can't pack that house with enough people to make me not notice who's missing. It'll always feel empty to me._

* * *

 

Just before the end-of-term exams, Harry managed to arrive late at Specialized Defense on the same day that yet another article appeared in the _Daily Prophet_ calling for his removal from Hogwarts.

 _"Harry Potter is a liability!"_ Fudge had been quoted as saying. _"The life of every child in that school is in danger as long as he is present."_

The other students were lined up in front of a row of, what appeared to be, targets. Ron and Hermione watched with obvious trepidation as Professor Smythe-Wellington advanced.

"How good of you to finally join us, Mr. Potter. Take your place at one of the empty targets." She stood up to address the group. "Although these objects appear to be targets, they will, in fact, be targeting you. One of the most crucial defensive skills is the ability to raise a shield with utmost speed to block an unfriendly spell. In fact, it may be the skill that saves your life. You may never have the chance to disarm an opponent before his spell reaches you. By shielding yourself, you get the second chance you need to do just that."

Well, that didn't sound too hard. Harry took his place and continued listening, keeping his face as blank as he could to avoid drawing Smythe-Wellington's attention. She went on, "These targets will attack you with a stinging hex. Nothing serious, just enough to let you know that you've been hit. And, they will hit you from different angles. The object is to block the hex. This exercise requires concentration. Ready? Begin!"

Next to Harry, Neville successfully blocked one hex, only to give a yelp as the target's next shot hit him in the knee. Harry blocked three shots in a row, then the target paused. Harry took a deep breath, trying to think about what he was doing and not the letters he had received by owl post.

_You are a selfish child! If you had any decency at all, you would leave that school!_

_Since when is your life more valuable than my son's! The headmaster is criminally negligent in allowing you to remain at Hogwarts while you are You-Know-Who's target!_

_Am I a liability? Is Fudge right? Should I be removed from Hogwarts?_ A burning pain stung his cheek and, as Harry raised his hand to his face, he was stung in the arm. Before he could get his wand into position, the target hit him again, square in the chest.

_You're always going to be a target!_

Sting!

_Harry Potter is a liability!_

Ouch!

_The life of every child in that school is in danger!_

Sting—shield—sting—shield—shield—sting—sting—sting—

Ouch! _Liability…_

_BLOODY ENOUGH!_

Something inside him seemed to snap, like a firecracker inside his head—

CRASH! The target exploded into chunks of plaster and cloth, causing the rest of the students to yelp and jump in surprise.

"Cease!" Professor Smythe-Wellington's voice rang out and all the other targets shut down. Harry felt blood draining from his face as it dawned on him what had happened. Smythe-Wellington rounded on him. Her voice was low and furious. "Mr. Potter, your performance is completely unacceptable! The lack of control over your own emotions, most specifically your temper, renders you unable to complete even this most basic exercise. _Control,_ Potter! That's the key word here. Without it, you are a liability..." Harry winced, "to any others working with you. I suggest that you make achieving that control your highest priority...from...now…on! Have I made my point, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry mumbled.

Scowling, she restored his target, but held up a hand when he started towards it. "To a seat, Mr. Potter. You will not be participating for the remainder of this class, and you have a zero for today's work."

Not daring to argue, Harry kept his head down and did as she said.

* * *

 

Harry didn't know whether to be grateful or not when term finally ended. On one hand, Ron was right: he needed a holiday. They all did; even Hermione was looking ragged and tense. On the other hand…there would be almost two dozen people at headquarters this Christmas…and Harry still keenly felt the knowledge that he was going back to an empty house.

It might not have been so bad if Remus were going with them, but all he would tell Harry was that he might be detained over Christmas. "I'll join you as soon as I can, but it may not be possible," he had said. "If not, I'll see you when you get back. Remember your promise."

Harry did, but it didn't make the knowledge any easier to bear. He dutifully cleared his mind every night before bed, and he and Snape continued Occlumency—though Harry's tension proved to be yet another emotion that could be exploited, and got him repeatedly scolded.

No, contrary to what Ron and Hermione were clearly hoping, the start of holidays gave Harry no peace, of mind or anything else. Tension was thick in the air as students packed to go home, with everyone painfully aware that they were leaving the relative safety of Hogwarts for the even less certain safety of their unwarded houses. Far more students were staying at school over Christmas than had in the past. As for Harry and the others, they quietly piled into the headmaster's office to Floo to headquarters.

And the knowledge that the Order of the Phoenix was planning some kind of major action was made even worst by Harry's first steps back into Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny hovered close beside him as they stepped into the parlor from the fire place, each clearly wondering whether they should say something or simply pretend they didn't notice.

Harry stared numbly around him: the house was much cleaner than it had been even last Christmas. It also appeared that a real effort had been made toward making the place a little brighter; lanterns and candles and festive Christmas decorations were everywhere.

But the house, not surprisingly, seemed to resist parting with its traditional dismal atmosphere, and gloom crept into every nook and cranny available. Harry rather agreed with the house: the decorations weren't fooling anyone.

Still, he didn't want to ruin everyone else's holiday, and the others were determined to try and have fun. He forced a smile at his quiet friends and said, "I guess we'd better go settle in."

"Right," said Ron at once. "Come on, we've got the same room as last year."

"Is Percy here?" Ginny asked, opening the parlor door. " _Hello?_ Anyone home?"

Feet came thumping down the hall—lots of feet. "Is that Ginny?" exclaimed someone, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rushed in, followed by Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the twins, to hug all the new arrivals. "We weren't expecting you for another hour!"

"Dumbledore thought we'd better leave before anyone noticed we weren't on the train," said Hermione. "Are my mum and dad here yet?"

"They're unpacking; I sent Tonks to get them," said Mrs. Weasley. "Well, why don't we get all your trunks to your rooms, then have some lunch, and ring in the holidays properly." She had one arm around Ron, the other around Harry, and he took the hint to wax enthusiastic.

 _They deserve a good holiday. They're all together again,_ he thought, looking at Percy.

When Harry got to his room, he found Phineas Nigellus inhabiting his portrait, solemnly watching the scene as they unpacked. "Good day, Mr. Potter," Phineas startled him at last by saying.

"Hullo," Harry muttered. He didn't want to be rude, but even discounting his initial mutual dislike of Sirius's great-great-grandfather, the memories that came with him were enough to keep him from looking at the portrait very long.

"You are well, I trust?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, keeping his attention on his trunk. Oddly enough, Phineas didn't appear offended by his shortness, but simply kept watching them.

Harry and Ron gratefully escaped the room and dodged back down the hall past all the other Order members and assorted children getting settled in. "Ron…ah…is Buckbeak still here?"

"Yeah, upstairs in Mrs. Black's room still. Want to go see him?"

"Er…maybe later," Harry stalled. He did want to, but somehow doubted he'd be able to handle it at the moment. "Let's go have lunch first."

They met Hermione with her parents on the way down the stairs. "Harry, you've met my mum and dad, haven't you?" asked Hermione.

"Er…" Harry had seen Hermione's Muggle parents once or twice, but now that he thought about it, they hadn't really been introduced.

"Apparently not," said Hermione's mother, a tall woman with wavy brown hair and brown eyes, and a face very like Hermione's own. She smiled at Harry and held out a hand, "I'm Moira Granger, Harry. Hermione's told us so much about you."

"And you," said Harry, shaking her hand. He didn't say all he was thinking; namely, how bloody lucky Hermione was.

Hermione's father was shorter than her mother, with a receding hairline and alert blue eyes. He met Harry's eyes, but Harry could almost see the thoughts running through his head, which also reminded him of Hermione. "Hello, Harry. I'm Andrew Granger."

"Pleased to meet you," Harry murmured, dropping his eyes. On the other hand, Mr. Granger, although he had that "thinking" look that Harry identified with Hermione, didn't seem quite as warm toward Harry as Hermione's mother. Something about him seemed, while not outright suspicious or hostile, not entirely happy to meet Harry either.

 _I've gotten too used to the Weasleys. Why am I surprised? Their daughter's a target anyway because of them, and now she's one of the main targets because of me,_ he thought dully. On the other hand, it might simply be due to the fact that he'd burned half of Hermione's hair off.

Hermione, for her part, had sensed the sudden tension and shot her father a rather impressive glare before grabbing both Harry and Ron's hands. "Come on, I'm starving. Let's have lunch!"

They obediently trooped back to the stairs. "Harry, you haven't seen the dining room yet, have you?" asked Ginny. When Harry shook his head, she said, "It's a lot bigger than the old kitchen, and rather nice, now that it's cleaned up properly."

It was, Harry found, as they led him in the opposite direction from the stairs that went down to the basement kitchen to a small hall he had never ventured down during his times at Grimmauld Place. At the end of that small entryway was a large, formal dining room, clearly the kind of place a wealthy family would have their dinners.

Harry wondered how Mrs. Black would react to seeing it being used for this. More holly and evergreen garlands and tinsel adorned the room, and the huge, sparkling chandelier over the table was fully lit, its candles throwing dancing light over everything. The long, wooden dining table and chairs shone with polish.

It was different enough from what Harry remembered of the house that it almost made him forget he was at Grimmauld Place—until a small, hunched figure skulked around his feet, carrying additional table settings and muttering, "Filthy half-breed child has returned. Kreacher thought he was gone for good at last, but no, he brings more filth into Mistress' house. My poor Mistress, if she knew…"

Harry stopped in his tracks. Hermione quickly intercepted Kreacher and snatched the plates and silverware from his hands. "That will be all, thank you, Kreacher," she said in a tight voice, glancing quickly at Harry. "Go to your room and don't come in here again until lunch is over."

Kreacher glared at her and shuffled away, muttering, "What would Mistress say if she knew poor Kreacher is receiving orders from filthy Mudbloods—"

Tonks tugged Hermione gently aside and snapped, " _Now_ , Kreacher!"

Kreacher went. The others looked at Harry nervously, so he just turned and headed for the table. _I suppose it would upset Hermione if I admitted how much I'd hoped to find his head mounted in the hall,_ he thought idly. Aloud, he said only, "This place does look nice now."

More than one person sighed in relief. Harry didn't notice Mrs. Weasley quietly straightening some of the dishes—they had begun to vibrate when he had first seen Kreacher.

Lunch was forcibly cheerful. Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger questioned them at length about end-of-term exams, and the twins chattered with Percy about their new line of Wheezes for office parties. Harry plastered a smile on his face and did his best to eat along with the others.

Tonks and Moody left after lunch without explanation. Harry knew he wasn't even supposed to think about it, for obvious reasons, but he couldn't shake the knowledge that Remus was out there somewhere, doing… _don't think about it don't think about it!_

* * *

 

Harry allowed his friends to drag him into the downstairs drawing room later to see some of the new holiday products the twins had invented. Fred and George had commandeered the whole room to fill Christmas orders—it was a very busy season for them—and shanghaied Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to help them.

"These crackers in themselves aren't pranks," said Fred, showing them to Harry. "They're ordinary wizard crackers, but full of our stuff."

"Can we try one?" Ginny pleaded as she gift wrapped a box and stuck a label on it.

"Wait till you finish and make sure there's enough to fill the orders," warned Percy from the writing desk, where he was working on the store's books.

The twins had wrangled Percy into taking up the job of official Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes accountant after he'd fled the Ministry, which, Ron confided to Harry, was probably more out of a desire to keep Percy from brooding too much, but so far the arrangement was actually turning out rather useful. "Who'd have thought Percy would wind up in partnership with the twins, of all people?" Ginny had laughed.

At the moment, Harry was helping her box up the last few orders of crackers and attach the labels. "How are you going to ship these? A lot of owls would get noticed," he remarked.

"We're sending them through the Floo back to Hogwarts, and they'll go out with the rest of the school's mail," said George. "Works out fine at this time of year." He pulled a face. "Would've been easier if we'd been able to take our N.E.W.T.s before the holidays."

Fred made a tsk-tsk noise and shook his head. "Ruddy Death Eaters have no respect for our schedule."

Harry wasn't the only one who saw the dark look on George's face at that, and Hermione said quickly, "Okay, that's all of them. And we've got three crackers left. What say we try them?"

George brightened. "Fire away!"

"One of 'em's mine!" Ginny exclaimed, grabbing one at once. "Harry?" She held it out to him.

Grinning, Harry took the other end. "Ready, and…"

 _BANG!_ Smoke and sparkles flew into the air as the cracker disgorged two Skiving Snackboxes, an assortment of Ton Tongue Toffees, Canary Creams, and other Weasley sweets, and a pair of Vanishing Hats. The twins followed with one of their own as Ginny turned herself into a headless canary with one of the hats and the creams, making Mr. Weasley and the Grangers laugh.

Ron and Hermione ended up with two golden crowns, trick wands, and a can of coiffure cream, which turned Ron blond and grew Hermione's hair to waist length. The crowns, once tried on, would not come off for three hours. "All you need are some dress robes and jewelry and you'd pass for royalty," Ginny told Hermione, tugging the rather pretty ringlets.

"She's right," said Ron. "Maybe you should let it get longer."

Hermione grinned and ruffled Ron's own golden locks, "My own hair would be a fright at this length! It would never really curl, as much as I like dressing up once in awhile."

Mrs. Weasley came in then and scolded them playfully for making such a mess before clearing away all the glitter and wrappings. "And if anyone plans to do any last-minute owl-order shopping, better fill out the forms now. Tonight's the last night you can order something and get it before Christmas."

Fred held out some forms. "We've got them if we need them," he said.

"Fred, George, can I ask you something?" Ron said suddenly.

"Shoot."

"I mean…alone? It's…holiday advice," said Ron cryptically, glancing at the others.

"Ah. Right. Let's pop down to the parlor and Floo these packages, shall we?" George handed a few forms to Hermione, Harry, Percy, and Ginny, and ushered Ron out the door, arms laden with boxes.

"Hmm," mused Ginny when they'd gone. "I wonder what he's on about?"

"Obviously one of us," said Hermione with a grin.

Harry was finishing up his forms (he had to order a lot since he hadn't been able to go to Hogsmeade like his classmates for presents) and Hermione was helping her parents with theirs when the drawing room door opened. They looked up, expecting to see Ron, or the twins, or one of the Aurors, but it wasn't.

It was Snape.

Everyone in the room sprang to their feet. He was dirty, his robes were torn, and Harry could see dried blood on his neck. "Professor!" exclaimed Hermione. "What happened?"

Snape's eyes darted around the room and came to rest on Harry. Harry felt a terrible chill, as if an icy hand had squeezed his heart. His throat tightened. Whatever Snape had been doing, it looked as if he had returned and immediately sought Harry out. Which could mean only one thing. Harry's voice failed on the first try, and he took a slow breath, trying to remember how to calm down.

"W-Where's Remus?" he asked weakly.

Snape dropped his eyes. He had _never_ done that before. Hermione and Ginny simultaneously sprang toward Harry, each wrapping her arms around him from either side as if afraid he would fall over. He rather thought it was a good idea. "Sir?" whispered Hermione.

"Missing," said Snape quietly. "The mission has gone wrong. We were separated."

There was not a sound in the room but Snape's voice. Harry began to shake.

Snape went on, "There is no news as yet. We may learn more as others begin to return. I was one of the first."

Harry was finding it hard to focus his eyes. He heard Mrs. Weasley ask shakily, "Do you think we should prepare for wounded?"

"I would advise it," said Snape, looking again at Harry. "I must return to Hogwarts; I merely came to inform Mr. Potter of the situation."

Ginny and Hermione's grips tightened on him, and Harry looked up, opening his mouth to thank Snape, but nothing came out. Instead, Ginny spoke for him. "Thank you, Professor."

"Miss Weasley. Potter." Snape quietly turned and left.

Harry was vaguely aware of Hermione and Ginny pressing him onto the sofa. Mr. Weasley quickly got up. "I'll go and see what I can find out," he said. He reached past the girls and gave Harry's shoulder a squeeze before hurrying out of the room.

Mrs. Weasley knelt in front of Harry. "Oh Harry, dear, try to calm down, it's too early to assume the worst!" Harry tried to look at her, but couldn't manage to concentrate, so she said, "Ginny, run and see if we have a Calming Draught downstairs."

As Ginny quickly rose, Mrs. Granger said, "Wait a moment." There was the sound of her rummaging in a bag, then a pop, then an intense, burning stench shot up Harry's nose.

He lurched backwards into the couch cushions, coughing, and tears streamed down his face. "What _is_ that!" he rasped.

"Ammonia," said Mrs. Granger proudly. "Modern Muggle smelling salts."

Harry blinked, wiping his eyes, and smiled weakly. "Something to be said for Muggle methods, I guess." His vision was a little clearer, and his head no longer felt detached from his body. "Thanks, I….I'm okay."

"Try and keep your mind clear," said Hermione. Harry blinked at her, and she explained, "I know it's hard, but until everyone gets back from the…mission, it's best if we don't give Voldemort any tips."

Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were frowning, but Harry nodded. "Right."

He tried to force himself to calm down. They didn't know anything for certain yet. Remus had just been separated from the others doing…whatever they were doing. That was all. He'd either catch up with them or make his own way back from…wherever they'd been. That was all.

He'd be back soon. He'd promised to be careful.

_HE PROMISED NOT TO LEAVE ME! HE CAN'T LEAVE ME HERE ALONE!_

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

Harry was breathing very fast. Ron, Percy, and the twins had come in by then and were crowded silently behind their mother, watching Harry with worried eyes. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'll be okay."

The twins exchanged glances. "Let's go downstairs," suggested George. "Hagrid's just dropped off the Christmas tree. We can decorate it while we…wait."

Harry didn't especially feel merry at the moment, but they were all watching him hopefully, so he nodded. "Right, then."

As they trooped downstairs, Ron (now red-haired once again) put an arm around his shoulders, and Harry forced himself to tease his friend about still wearing that silly crown. "We can't get the bloody things off, remember?" Ron protested.

After obediently hanging tinsel and ornaments on the Christmas Tree for a little while, Harry found himself desperately wanting to escape. His insides were twisting with anxiety, and every time the fireplace crackled or the house creaked, he jumped. The way everyone hovered around him didn't help, but above all else, he couldn't seem to stop staring fixedly at the doorway, praying with all his strength that a familiar shabby figure would come through it.

_Remus_ _Remus Remus!_

Finally, he simply couldn't take anymore. Shifting out of the crowd of Grangers and Weasleys, he slipped toward the doorway and faked a yawn. "I'm going to go lie down for awhile."

Ron and Hermione immediately started toward him. "We'll go upstairs too."

"You don't have to!" Harry said, more sharply than he'd meant to. They both wavered. "I mean…I'm fine, really, I just…"

Hermione opened her mouth, but Ron nudged her gently. "That's fine, mate. Er…do you want some Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

"There's some here?" he asked in surprise.

Hermione nodded. "In the kitchen cupboard. It's probably a good idea…considering."

"Yeah," said Ron quickly, grabbing her arm. "We'll run and get it." Giving her a warning look when she would have protested, he tugged her away, and Harry headed up the stairs alone.

 _I owe you, Ron,_ Harry thought dryly.

Not that he didn't appreciate Hermione's concern—well, that was a lie, more often than not it was downright annoying—but he simply couldn't cope with it just now. Being surrounded by hovering, worried people only made him feel more conscious of the emptiness of Grimmauld Place compared to last year. If Remus had come here with them it wouldn't have been so bad, and now…

_Remus_ _, you have to come back! I need you, you promised you'd never leave me alone, you have to come back, I can't stand this place without you, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE I CAN'T STAND IT!_

"The filthy little half-blood is distressed, doesn't even see Kreacher."

Harry jumped. He'd nearly stepped on Kreacher. "Sorry," he said curtly, and started past the elf.

As he started to walk down the hall to his room, he heard Kreacher muttering, "The traitors and the filth infest Mistress's house now, but soon they will all be gone again."

Turning slowly, Harry growled, "And what do you mean by that?" Kreacher stopped and grinned coldly at him—the exact same way he had when he had lied to Harry about Sirius and the Department of Mysteries. Harry's stomach lurched. "Cut…it…out."

Neither he nor Kreacher noticed the Christmas decorations rattling softly on the walls, nor the sound of footsteps downstairs. Kreacher sneered, "Kreacher has seen those that have not come back, filthy spawn of Mudbloods. Slowly the numbers dwindle."

His chest felt tight, and he was shaking again—but not for the same reasons as before. "Get back downstairs and don't ever speak to me again, you disgusting little worm! Get away from me!"

"Kreacher need not take orders from the half-breed," the house elf drove on, laughing.

_Kreacher_ _told me, laughing fit to burst, where Sirius had gone._

Spots were starting to appear in front of Harry's eyes. If there was anyone or anything in the world he hated more than Bellatrix Lestrange…how _dare_ this murdering little monster stand here and taunt him!

"I'll bloody lock you in that cupboard for the rest of your life," he hissed, advancing on the house elf.

Kreacher _kept laughing!_ "The half-breed would like to hurt Kreacher, Kreacher can see! Because Master is gone, gone in the Department of Mysteries, and now the half-breed's pet werewolf is gone too!"

"SHUT UP!" Harry screamed, and somewhere, glass shattered.

"The Dark Lord will have them all soon, the Master, the werewolf, the traitors, and the Mudbloods, all of them shall fall to the Dark Lord, and soon the half-breed will be alone, all alone—"

Blood roared in Harry's ears as he clenched his fists, fighting the urge to wrap his hands around that nasty little neck and choke its words off. From outside his ears came an incredible howl as wind like a storm gale roared down the hallway, sweeping garlands off the walls and snuffing out candles.

_Soon the half-breed will be alone, all alone…now the werewolf is gone too…_

"AAAAUUUUGH!" the bony little elf screeched in surprise as the gust—that had once knocked Draco Malfoy clean off his feet—lifted him clean into the air and carried him away from the enraged wizard.

"Harry! Harry, STOP!"

With a gasp, Harry came back to himself. Ron was pressed against the wall at the end of the hall, but the wind had already carried the airborne house elf out of the hallway over the top of the stairs, so that when it died, Kreacher hit the stairs with another screech and went crashing all the way down them, despite Ron's attempt to grab him. "Merlin's beard!" he yelled as Kreacher's shrieks abruptly stopped.

Harry raced to the stairs as Ron dashed down them, hearing yelling below. Everyone was crowding at the bottom of the stairs over Kreacher's crumpled form. "I didn't mean…" he gasped, horrified, but no one could hear him over the ruckus.

Someone was sobbing. Harry blinked in confusion as he realized it was Mrs. Weasley. The twins were tugging her away, saying, "Mum, Mum, calm down, it was an accident! It was…right?" George looked up at Harry worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Harry babbled, coming down the stairs toward them as Hermione appeared, carrying the quilt she'd made Kreacher the Christmas before. "I didn't mean to hurt…" he trailed off when he saw tears in Hermione's eyes too.

When she draped the quilt _over_ the house elf, something clunked into place in Harry's head. His mouth fell open. _What…what…no…no, I couldn't have…I…_

As Hermione straightened up, her face unreadable, Ron grabbed her arm. "It was an accident," he said to her, his voice fierce. "Just an accident."

Hermione didn't seem to hear him. She just stared up at Harry, who felt his stomach starting to spin. _Oh God…_

Now everyone was staring at him. Bill and Charlie pushed past the twins, and Charlie scooped up the quilt-wrapped bundle. "We'll…handle things," said Bill quietly.

Everyone was staring at him! "I…didn't…mean…" Harry choked out, his head swimming. His brain felt as if it had turned to porridge. He couldn't think, couldn't see anything except the body…

Body.

Kreacher was dead. Harry had killed him.

_I killed him._

Ron came running up the stairs as Harry sat down on them with a thump, hands over his mouth and fearing he'd be sick. "Calm down, Harry, try to calm down!"

"I didn't mean to…I didn't mean to…"

_I killed Kreacher! I killed Kreacher, I killed a house elf, he was old and defenseless even if he was awful and I killed him I killed Kreacher I killedIkilledIkilledI…_

Past Ron's shoulders, he could see them all still staring at him.

_Murdered…him…murderer…_

Harry wrenched away from Ron and staggered to his feet, lurching back up the stairs and breaking into a stumbling run down the hallway. Below, everyone was talking at once. He thought he heard Hermione call after him, but it might have been his imagination. After all, what would she say to him now?

_You killed Kreacher._

_Murderer…_

* * *

 

He had crashed drunkenly through the door of one of the unused bedrooms, and after that he didn't remember much of anything. When his thoughts slowed down to where he could notice his surroundings, he was mildly surprised to find himself in a closet, arms wrapped around his knees so tight that his legs hurt. He was still shaking.

_Murderer…_

He'd killed Kreacher. He…had… _killed._ He had killed an old, half-crazy house elf. Completely defenseless…and Harry had killed him. Harry had hated him, but he hadn't meant to… _had he!_

Horror surged up in Harry so suddenly that he nearly was sick right there. As it was, he had to clap both hands over his mouth. _No…no…I couldn't have…even subconsciously, I'd never DELIBERATELY…could I? Would I? Oh no…I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!_

Eventually, his mental hysterics wound down, and he hauled himself up and out of the closet. Then he froze: somehow, in his panicked state, he'd wound up in Sirius's bedroom. How he'd managed that, he had no idea; Sirius's room was up another flight of stairs and down two hallways in the labyrinth that was the Blacks' family home.

Of course, Sirius had spent more time in Buckbeak's room than in here, but it was still unsettling. Harry curled up into a ball on top of the bed and closed his eyes. What would Sirius have said if he had seen what Harry just did?

The door opened.

Harry shot into a sitting position with a gasp, and Hermione jumped in response, wide-eyed. He caught his breath, and she stared nervously at him from the doorway. "Harry…can I come in?"

Swallowing thickly, Harry nodded, pulling his knees up to his chest again. She came and sat down on the bed next to him, pulling her knees up in the same way unconsciously. Harry didn't dare look at her, and had no idea whether she looked at him. They sat there, silent, for a long time.

At length, she said softly, "I know you didn't mean to hurt him, Harry."

Harry's head shot up. "Hurt? He's not—" but she winced and shook her head.

"No. Kreacher's dead." Harry groaned and put his forehead on his knees. "But I know you didn't mean it," Hermione said.

He took a shuddering breath. Long moments passed until he trusted his voice. "You must hate me so much."

"I could never hate you," she whispered.

"Why not?" he murmured. "I'm a monster, Hermione. I killed an old house elf."

"It was an accident. Ron saw it; he told us what happened."

Harry looked miserably at her. "But until he did, you weren't sure, were you?" She looked away and didn't answer. He wasn't surprised. "And even so…the accident was my fault. My temper again."

Hermione sniffled and wiped her eyes furiously. "I still don't hate you. And…I don't want you to hate yourself."

"Why not!" Harry cried. "Look what I've done! I'm…I'm turning into something, Hermione, I don't know what it is, except that it's not good. I'm blasting things with wandless magic, burning you in Potions, _killing_ …"

"It's not YOU!" Hermione burst out, tears streaming down her face as she grabbed his arms and made him look at her. Gulping back sobs, she said, "It's the war, Harry. It's changing everyone. Everything. You're scared…and hurt…and angry…more and more, and you have every right to be. It's…pushing people. Pushing them to do things they'd never do normally. Cornelius Fudge wants you arrested or even dead, and Percy Obliviated him, and Remus was ready to kill him that day when—I could never hate you!" she sobbed, and began punching the pillows. "I just hate…this…bloody…. _war!_ "

Harry sat still when she threw her arms around him, and let her cry into his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, over and over. "I'm so weak. I can't even control _myself._ I'm sorry I can't stop it."

"You're just sixteen. It should never be up to someone like you to stop it!" she snapped, sitting up and wiping her face on her sleeve. "I've been thinking so much lately…wondering what the world would be like—what it _should_ be like, if we were normal students, normal wizards, that is." She flopped backward onto the piled pillows. "None of this should be happening. Bloody prophecy. Bloody Voldemort."

Harry slowly said, "Hermione…can someone do wandless magic, because they want to do something…subconsciously?"

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "No, not like that. If that's what you're wondering, magic like what happened at the stairs, that wasn't anything deliberate. Ron said…your eyes were unfocused. It was just your magic responding to your emotions—what'd Kreacher do?"

Taking a deep breath, Harry admitted, "He started…talking about Sirius…and Remus too. He said Voldemort would get all of you, and I'd end up alone."

Hermione cringed and put a hand on his shoulder. "We checked with Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall says it's still too soon to know what's happening. They'll let us know as soon as there's news."

Harry buried his face in his hands. "Hermione…what am I going to do? What'll I do if…"

He heard her sniffle again. "Harry…no matter what happens…you won't be alone! We won't let that happen. We'll be with you, and we'll get you through this, no matter what."

"Until Voldemort murders you too!" Harry said roughly.

She squeezed his arm hard. "He can't get to all of us. And he can't kill our friendship. Don't you see? He can't kill love, Harry."

"I don't want you to die," Harry whispered. "Memories aren't enough, I know that because of Sirius. Everyone talks about how love never really leaves, but it just hurts! I need _you._ All of you. I need Remus. _Alive!_ "

"I wish I could make it better," Hermione said, resting her head on his shoulder.

Just then, Ron came in. "You okay, mate?"

Harry ruefully beckoned him in. "Come sit down and blubber with us." Hermione chuckled weakly and moved over to make room for Ron, wiping her face. Quietly, Harry asked, "What…what happened with…Kreacher?"

Ron shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "Bill and Charlie took the body away, and that's all. And…nobody's…everybody knows it was an accident."

Harry sighed wearily. "It's lucky I didn't hurt you. I saw you at the top of the stairs."

"You didn't see your face, mate, you were completely out of it. I don't think you even really saw Kreacher once that wind picked up."

"Still…" Harry closed his eyes. "It means I was out of control again."

Hermione rubbed his back. "That you can fix. We know you can. It's hard because of everything that's happening, but…you can. And we'll help."

Harry opened his eyes and smiled wearily at his friends. "Thanks." He chuckled weakly. "For putting up with me."

Both of them swatted him. The knot in his stomach loosened quite a bit. "Want to come downstairs? Mum's fretting that you haven't had dinner," said Ron.

"Honestly, I'm really not hungry," said Harry.

"We didn't think you'd be, but if you change your mind later, eat," Hermione ordered. "Do you want to come down to the library? Now that it's cleaned up, there's lots and lots of interesting-looking books."

"Hermione's dream come true," said Ron, and Harry had to grin. But then Ron said, "If you really want it, though, we'll leave you alone."

Harry said slowly, "I think maybe…I'll just go back to my room and lie down. If that's okay."

Ron and Hermione nodded gravely. "Come on, then."

They piled off the bed, and Harry glanced around the room once as he reached the doorway. It didn't look as if anyone had been in here in the past months since…he sighed. _Memories aren't enough. She's right, none of this should be happening. I should still have him. Was it too much for me to even have a godfather?_

"Harry?"

Shaking his head, he turned and followed them down the hall. _And now they may have taken Remus too._

_Now the werewolf is gone too, and soon he shall be alone, all alone…_

_PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE!_

There were some people…some _kinds_ of people…who just couldn't be replaced by friends or teachers. Ron and Hermione were so lucky to have parents…Sirius and Remus…they were all Harry had left of his.

_Please don't let me lose them both!_

When he got to the room he shared with Ron, he found that someone had put a bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion by his bed. "We'll be downstairs, Harry," said Hermione from the doorway.

"'kay," Harry replied, and they left him alone. Not caring that the sun hadn't even set yet, he tossed his glasses onto the nightstand, gulped down the Potion, and fell asleep fully clothed.

* * *

 

There was no light from the window when he woke. At first he wasn't sure what had awakened him, but once his ears connected to his brain, he heard a definite commotion downstairs. _What on earth is going on?_ he wondered drowsily, and started to turn over and go back to sleep.

_They'll let us know as soon as they have news._

Harry gasped out loud and sat bolt upright, fumbling for his glasses and scrambling off the bed.

There was definitely something going on downstairs. He heard Tonks and Moody on the landing below, heading down the hall in a hurry. "If Beta Team is back, that must mean somebody got the wards down again!"

"Perhaps if we can catch them on the run from behind, we have a chance of finding out about the rest—"

Their voices faded through a doorway as Harry rushed down the stairs. There were many voices in the parlor, all talking at once.

"I can't bloody believe this!" It was either Fred or George.

"I need—"

"Calm down, everyone—" Mr. Weasley was trying to say.

"I can _not_ bloody believe this!" said the unidentified Weasley twin again.

"We have to explain some things first—" Mrs. Weasley began.

"Molly, please, where is—" That voice was also familiar.

" _Wait_ a minute, I have to warn you of—" Mrs. Weasley tried.

"Where _is_ he! Molly, will you _please_ get out of my way?" repeated the other voice.

" _QUIET!_ Go on, Mum." _That_ was Ginny.

"You can see Harry in just a moment, but we have to warn you—" Harry could see Mrs. Weasley through the door, apparently blocking someone's path to it. She glanced at the doorway and saw him coming. "HARRY! Oh! Oh, wait a minute, dear, wait, I don't want you to—"

By now, Harry was simply running. Ignoring Mrs. Weasley's protests, he ran past her, straight into the drawing room, about to demand what news they had received and hoping to see some sign…

Harry skidded to a halt.

The thin, bedraggled figure facing Mrs. Weasley looked up as Harry entered, shaking his long, matted black hair from his gaunt, white face. It was like the fleeting memory of a first impression, only…not.

Dark gray eyes in a wasted, once-handsome face betrayed a flicker of apprehension and doubt at the sight of Harry. The man hesitated, then broke into a broad, mischievous smile and said, "Hello there, Harry. Miss me?"

There was the muffled sound of a stifled protest from Mrs. Weasley, but Harry was completely unaware of anyone else in the crowded room. His feet were rooted to the carpet. His mouth opened slowly, and it took every shred of concentration he could pull together from his reeling mind for one whispered word, one plea, one tiny glimmer of hope…

"Sirius?"

_Sirius…here…Sirius…here…alive…SIRIUS HERE!_

_That's it. I've lost it. I really am going mad._

The edges of Harry's vision were closing in. Strange, the hallucination looked so real; he could still see Sirius Black alive, standing in front of him. The phantom of his godfather— _how very odd, he doesn't look like he did last time I saw him—_ stopped grinning and began to frown at Harry's reaction. "Yes, it really is me. Harry, it's all right…Harry?"

_Sirius…alive…no, no, it CAN'T be. I've lost my mind…or maybe a trick…_

His head was swimming with confused thoughts, but one thing was certain: this couldn't be real.

Sirius's face was growing alarmed, and he stepped hesitantly forward, raising a hand.

But Harry took a reflexive step back.

"Harry?" Someone else was saying something. "Harry, really, it's Sirius—"

All Harry could see as the world began to tilt was the hallucination moving towards him. Then Sirius was running, as someone began shrilly yelling in the background, "Oh, Sirius Black, you STILL do not have a shred of sense!" but the words made no sense to Harry.

The next thing he knew, his knees landed on the carpet, but Sirius had wrapped his arms around him. "Harry! Are you all right?"

 _Weird…he feels real…_ Harry thought vaguely. It wasn't such a bad hallucination after all, not that it meant he wasn't nutters.

"Of _course,_ he's not all right—"

"Harry!" Sirius was easing him down, his stricken face inches from Harry's as he shifted Harry's sagging body. "Harry, can you hear me?"

Harry felt his head coming to rest against Sirius's shoulder. Strange, it all seemed so very real, so very nice. His robes smelled clean, though there was another smell that reminded Harry vaguely of a place he didn't like, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. The world was getting dark, though, which annoyed him somewhat because he didn't want to stop seeing Sirius. Still…it wasn't so bad, he mused, as sight and sound faded away, because touch had stayed.

And here, wrapped in his godfather's arms...Harry didn't really care that much whether he ever woke up.


	31. Tidings

Harry came round very slowly—to absolute chaos.

Someone was shaking him, speaking in a desperate voice. "Harry, wake up!"

"I could kill you all over again, Sirius Black, for giving him a shock like that! Don't you _ever_ stop to think that—"

Arms were wrapped around him, so comforting and familiar. "Molly, you can shout at me later; help me get him on the sofa!"

"Here, let me help." Harry was jostled about, then his head was resting on a pillow, his body sinking into sofa cushions. He wanted to protest; he wanted the arms back.

"My God…Molly, what—what's happened to him? He looks as if he's lost five stone!"

"What did Albus tell you?"

"Only that it's been six months…Merlin's beard, that part hasn't sunk in yet. And Harry thought I was dead?"

" _Yes_ , which is why you should have waited and given us a chance to tell him gently—"

"Fine, Molly, fine, I concede the point!"

"Sirius, Molly, hush. He's waking."

Those arguing voices reminded him of something…something that couldn't be real…funny, but everybody else was acting like it was…alertness and memory hit Harry in a rush; he jerked upright and lurched off the sofa. "Sirius!"

The impossibly familiar figure lunged forward, and Harry crash-landed in his arms.

His arms were solid. Solid and real.

Real.

_He's real._

"Harry, it's all right! Easy!" Sirius knelt with Harry on the floor and rested a hand on his cheek, looking anguished. Harry began to shake. "I'm so sorry, Harry, I'm such a fool, I wasn't thinking—"

"SIRIUS!" Pounding feet heralded the arrival of Ron and Hermione at a dead run, with Ron skidding to a stop in the doorway and Hermione colliding with him from behind. "Oh…my God…is it…is it…really…"

Sirius half-turned to wave at them with one hand. "Yes, yes, it is me. Dumbledore vouched for it so I wouldn't get myself hexed." He looked back at Harry's face and cringed at the wild-eyed way Harry was staring at him. "It's me," he repeated softly and pulled Harry into a hug. "Harry, it's all right, it's really me."

Harry wrapped his arms around his godfather's neck, clinging to him as tight as he could. He'd never let Sirius go again, never let him out of his sight, never…

"I…I thought…"

"I know," Sirius muttered gruffly into his hair. "I know what you thought, and…well, you're partly right. When everyone's calmed down a bit, I'll explain."

It was too much. Harry couldn't understand what was happening, all he knew was that he was kneeling on the parlor floor with the Weasleys all surrounding him and Sirius— _SIRIUS!—_ right there. Alive.

And Remus who-knew-where. It was too much to absorb. Still shaking, Harry kept his face lowered so none of them would see how close he was to flying apart.

There was a loud sniffle and muffled sobbing. Sirius glanced over his shoulder, and Harry looked too, to see Hermione with both hands over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. "Sorry!" she squeaked, smiling and gulping down sobs. "We—just—really—missed—you!"

Sirius released Harry with one arm to hold out a hand to her. "It's all right, Hermione. I suppose I've traumatized everyone."

Then someone else was crying, one of the boys from the sound of it. Sirius exclaimed, "Ron!" Harry was only mildly startled to see that it was in fact Ron, as Sirius, now looking baffled, tried to console Harry's best friends. "Take it easy, you lot, it's all right, no need to—Ginny, George, don't—"

Now Ginny and the twins were at it, and Sirius was growing alarmed to find himself at the center of a crowd of sobbing teenagers. "Really, everyone, calm down, everything's—Molly? Help?"

Mrs. Weasley was tugging at various sleeves and urging them all to calm down and not crowd Harry and Sirius, yes, yes, that everyone had been through a great deal tonight, no need to get upset, and Sirius turned to Harry with a sheepish grin.

"Blimey, I didn't know I was so appreciated!"

Harry burst into tears.

That had the effect of stopping everyone else crying, but it threw Sirius into a complete panic. He pulled Harry into a frantic embrace, stricken by his godson's helpless sobbing, and rubbed Harry's back and babbled, "Harry! Harry, no, don't—please, it's all right, Harry, please, please don't cry! Harry…"

Harry couldn't stop. It was too much. Everything that had happened in the past six months—he could still bloody see Sirius falling behind that veil!—was running through his mind again and again, and Sirius here, now, right in front of him—he couldn't begin to calm down. He buried his face in his godfather's shoulder and sobbed like a baby.

Someone else was behind him, with a hand on his back. "Just let him go, Sirius, it's all right." It was Mrs. Weasley. "He needs a good cry, I think. He'll be fine, just let him get it out."

So Sirius just hugged him and whispered again and again, "Harry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. If I hadn't been so ruddy stupid, you wouldn't be going through this. I'm sorry for everything."

Harry desperately wanted to tell Sirius it was all right. He didn't want Sirius to feel guilty—he'd _died_ , for heaven's sake!—or upset because Harry was upset, he wanted to explain he was just rattled over everything that had happened, and not knowing where Remus was—only that would upset Sirus even more.

From behind him, he heard Hermione asking, "How exactly _did_ this happen? I mean…I wasn't there when Sirius…er…"

"Oh, I was dead all right—at least so Dumbledore informs me," said Sirius, and that finally surprised Harry enough to stop his hysterics. He looked up and blinked, his face still soaked, and Sirius smiled wanly at him. "Come on, let's get off the floor."

Harry shakily let Sirius help him to his feet. Ginny was wiping her eyes. "Sorry about all that, Sirius, it's just…it's been so awful!"

"So I gather, though you'll have to fill me in," said Sirius, giving Harry an appraising frown. "I didn't stay at Hogwarts for longer than a visit to the hospital wing; I couldn't wait."

"Remus is missing!"

The anguished words burst out before Harry could stifle them, and his godfather, if possible, went whiter than before. "What?" he breathed. With wide eyes, he looked past Harry at the others. "Molly?"

Gently, Mrs. Weasley said, "The mission to rescue you had some trouble. Several people were separated from their groups and haven't made it back yet. But Alastor and Minerva say it's likely some of them will make it back."

Emotions flashed across Sirius's face for several moments, then he looked at Harry and visibly pulled himself together. "Well…then it's too soon to panic. We'll wait for him together."

Mrs. Weasley said briskly, "Sirius, you look dreadful. Didn't they see to you when you got back to Hogwarts?"

Sirius shrugged. "I let Madam Pomfrey patch up the worst of it, but…"

Harry's heart lurched, followed closely by his stomach, as everything fell into place in his mind: the Fortress, the fever dreams, the _nightmares…not nightmares…visions._ Hands grabbed him as he swayed on his feet. Sick with horror, he looked hard at Sirius for the first time and took in his appearance, as gaunt as after Azkaban, and all the recently-treated injuries. "Oh my g…they weren't…just dreams…" he gasped, nausea rising in his throat. "I thought…nightmares…"

"Harry!" Sirius exclaimed, and quickly sat him down on the sofa. "Harry, calm down—look at me! Look at me, I'm fine!" He held Harry upright by the shoulders, looking him in the eyes. Harry clenched his jaw shut until the waves of nausea receded, trying hard not to get hysterical again. He felt like the littlest thing would send him stark, raving mad. Sirius watched him solemnly, "Dumbledore told me you had visions of the Fortress."

"He knew, and he didn't tell me," Harry muttered, feeling inklings of the same old resentment.

Sirius rubbed his shoulders. "Listen, I don't pretend to agree with Dumbledore on everything, but I'm glad he didn't tell you. There was nothing you yourself could have done except worry if you'd known your dreams were real."

Harry pressed his forehead into the cushions. "They were torturing you!"

"I survived," Sirius told him. "Believe me, when all's said and done, it wasn't as bad as Azkaban." Harry groaned, and Sirius sighed and pulled him back into his arms. "All right, wrong thing to say. But it's true."

"Tell me what happened," Harry muttered into his shoulder. "I was sure I'd seen you…as Snuffles…in the Fortress. I have to know, what was dreams and what wasn't."

Sirius sat back against the cushions and pulled a face. "Well…from what I saw after Bellatrix dragged me up there, you were hurt, and she did a spell to trigger Remus's transformation. I missed whatever Snape did to reverse it, but once I got away from her, I came straight to you." He sighed and regarded Harry. "You looked like hell. Remus and Snape didn't believe it was me—can't really blame them, I suppose—but they let me lead them out."

"How did you get separated?" asked Ginny softly, sitting on the floor beside the sofa.

"It was the only way," Sirius said firmly, looking at Harry, not her. "They had an unbreakable collar around my neck; I was stuck in Animagus form. Remus and Snape had to get you out of there; I stayed to buy them time."

Harry scooted closer to him, relishing the feel of his godfather's arm around his shoulders. "I…can't believe…Sirius." He just couldn't seem to care what anyone thought, he held on as tight as he could. A sniffle came from Ron and Hermione's direction. "I don't understand," he said. "Everyone said you were dead."

"Er…well…"

Ron and Hermione had perked up. "How _did_ that happen?" Hermione asked again. "Everyone said they saw you…er…fall…"

Sirius laughed, "Oh, I did kick the bucket, as a matter of fact." Harry sat back in confusion, and Sirius shrugged. "Although if you're looking for any great insight into The Other Side, can't help you there. I don't remember anything—only a very rude awakening with Bellatrix, Wormtail, and Voldemort standing over me. The smirks of doom," he muttered, shaking his head. Seeing Harry's face, he smiled and ruffled his hair. "Don't fret yourself, Harry. It's over. It wasn't pleasant, but it's over."

Harry forced a smile. "I missed you."

"So I gathered," Sirius said sheepishly. "Though Remus promised me he'd look after you if anything ever happened to me."

"He did!" Ron said. "He's teaching Defense again. He looked after all of us."

"There," said Sirius, nodding as he watched Harry's face closely. "He'll be along, then. If he didn't know whether I'd made it back in one piece, he'd never leave you."

"Sirius…" said Mrs. Weasley, but Sirius kept his eyes on Harry's.

"He'll be back. I know it."

There was such conviction in his voice that Harry couldn't help but believe him.

Clearing her throat, Mrs. Weasley said, "In any case, every one of you needs to get some rest. Upstairs now, all of you."

In spite of her urging, Harry went slowly up the stairs, glancing over his shoulder every few steps at Sirius, who had stopped to talk to Mr. Weasley. "Come on, mate," said Ron. "He's right, Remus'll be back. Dad said they may have just had to apparate to London instead of Hogwarts."

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded. "I know. I just…" he smiled weakly at Ron. "I'm afraid if I go to sleep it'll all turn out to be a dream."

Still sniffling, Hermione hugged Harry fiercely—and pinched him on the arm, making him yelp. "There, see? It's _not_ a dream!" she laughed, wiping her eyes. "Things are going to get better now, Harry, I'm sure of it!"

"If Remus gets back," Harry murmured, still hesitating.

Ron slapped his back. "I'll bet we have news tomorrow. Everyone's probably exhausted and getting patched up by Madam Pomfrey right now."

Reluctantly, Harry let them draw him upstairs. But it was hard to go to sleep, and he sat up in bed and listened when he heard Sirius go past the room, talking to Mr. Weasley. It wasn't until he saw Ron watching him that he forced himself to close his eyes. He didn't expect to be able to sleep at all, but he must have been more tired than he realized.

* * *

 

That night, the same nightmare he'd been having for six months came back with a vengeance. _The red light of Bellatrix Lestrange's curse hit Sirius right in the chest._

_The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock._

_Harry released Neville, though he was unsure of what he was doing. He was jumping down the steps again, pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore turned to the dais too._

_It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch…_

_And Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as if in a high wind then fell back into place…_

_"He's gone..."_

"Sirius! _Sirius! NOOOO!_ "

"Harry! Harry, wake up!"

"No, Sirius, no, please, NO!" Harry thrashed against the arms restraining him. "NO!" He lurched upright, only to have his head crack against someone's chin. The arms let go, and someone hit the floor with a thud.

"Ow! Of all the bloody—sodding—"

The pain in his head was what finally distracted Harry from the dream, and he doubled over, rubbing his eyes. "What—where's—"

"Harry!" It was Hermione, shaking him violently. "It's okay, you just had a nightmare!"

"I—what—" Harry pulled away from her, trying to figure out what had happened. "Sirius…"

Other people had burst into the room, and someone was shoving through them. Harry gasped aloud at the sight of Sirius, hastily fastening a dressing gown over some borrowed pajamas as he ran toward Harry. "I'm here!" Hermione moved aside so he could sit on the bed and put an arm around Harry. "All right now, Harry?"

So it hadn't been a dream, what he remembered before the nightmare. It had really happened, and Sirius was here and was a minute before Harry trusted his voice. "Yeah," he muttered, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"Don't be, Harry, it's not your fault," said Hermione.

"Speak for yourself," groaned a voice from the floor. "Bloody broke my jaw!"

Harry saw Ron still sitting there, rubbing his chin and looking mock-annoyed, and had to smile. "You ought to know by now not to get too close when I go nutters."

Rubbing Harry's shoulders, Sirius said, "Ron, would you mind swapping rooms tonight? I'll stick close in case there's any other nightmares."

Ron shook his head, "No problem. Just watch out for his right hook."

"Sorry, Ron," Harry muttered.

Ron cuffed him playfully and collected his pillow before shuffling out the door. Sirius crossed the room and sat casually on the other bed. "There. Now the monsters will stay away." Harry groaned, and he smiled. "All right, I won't tease you." He tilted his head and looked at Harry in a searching way. "Do you want to tell me what I've missed?"

Harry pulled the tangled bedclothes back over his legs and sighed. "It's a long story." Avoiding Sirius's eyes, he asked, "What'd Dumbledore tell you?"

"Not much. And I wasn't really listening." Sirius shrugged sheepishly, "I was rather set on getting to you as soon as possible."

"How did they rescue you?" Harry asked, stalling.

"Who knows?" Sirius chuckled. "Bella and her minions had left me alone for a bit—I, er, didn't have much sense of time. Next thing I knew, Dumbledore was strolling up to me and breaking the collar off." He shook his head. "Then he walked me through a wall and portkeyed us back to Hogwarts. How he does that, I'll never know."

Harry grinned. "It's just like when he strolled into the Forbidden Forest to rescue Umbridge from the Centaurs…" his heart lurched. He hated thinking about that because it reminded him of those first awful days after the Department of Mysteries when Sirius was dead…except that Sirius was here, _here!_

And at the moment, Sirius was watching him with anxious eyes. "Harry, what happened to you?"

Resting his chin on his knees, Harry studied the wall and muttered, "You _died_ , that's what happened!" He saw Sirius wince out of the corner of his eye, and looked up hastily, "I mean—I'm sorry, I'm not…it's just…Hermione was right," he sighed, flopping back on the pillows. "We really missed you. It was hard."

The other bed creaked as Sirius got up to come sit beside him. He patted Harry's arm. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I wish you hadn't had to go through that."

Harry sat up quickly, then hesitated. He wanted to hug Sirius again, as if to make sure he was really there and this wasn't another dream, but he wasn't quite sure how. How did you ask someone to hug them? Apparently, Sirius got the message, because he cautiously tugged Harry toward him, then pulled him into his arms. They sat that way for a long time, Sirius gently rubbing Harry's back.

In a ridiculously shaky voice, Harry asked, "You're really okay?"

Sirius let out a ragged laugh and muttered, "Yeah, I'm okay. Really." He held Harry up at arm's length and mused, "I'm not so sure about you."

Harry hastily wiped his face on the back of his hand. "I'm okay."

"Your dad was a better liar than you, but I could still catch him." Harry cringed, and Sirius sighed. "Honestly, Harry, you look dreadful. Can't you tell me what's happened?"

With a shrug, Harry told him, "A lot's happened. I…I've been sick a few times."

"Sick?"

Harry nodded. "Voldemort found a way to get at me from a distance for awhile, it…got bad until Dumbledore and the teachers figured out how to stop it. I guess I'm still getting over it."

Sirius shook his head. "Still getting over it, you look as if you might fall down the stairs—what?" Harry had flinched sharply. "What is it?" Sirius exclaimed in alarm as Harry pulled away, trying to hide his face. "Harry, please, talk to me!"

It took a few moments for Harry to get his breathing under control. He couldn't look up as he murmured, "I have…I have to tell you something. Something that happened…yesterday, actually. It's…about Kreacher."

He dared a glance at Sirius; his godfather's face had fallen, hardened, even. In a quiet, controlled voice that reminded Harry of Remus, Sirius said, "What happened? Did Kreacher hurt you?"

"No!" Harry burst out, guilt burning up inside him. "No, you've got it backwards. Kreacher—I—Kreacher fell—it was my fault—I didn't mean to—"

Sirius caught his hands. "Harry, slow down. Kreacher was hurt?"

Miserably, he shook his head. "No," he choked out. "He's dead." Sirius went very still, and Harry buried his face in his hands. "I killed him. I'm sorry, I killed him. I didn't mean to, I swear, I didn't mean to!"

"Oh, Harry," Sirius pulled him back into his arms. "I believe you, it's all right. What happened?"

Pressing his face into Sirius's shoulder made it difficult to talk, but it felt good. "Wandless magic. I've been having…surges of it lately, whenever I get really angry. Kreacher started…he had a go at you, and Remus, when we found out Remus was missing. I was in the hall upstairs and…there was this wind, it's happened before…but it threw him…he fell…" he couldn't go on.

Sirius was rubbing his back gently. "But it was an accident?" Harry nodded miserably. "Well. We'll have to work on getting those…surges under control, but, Harry, you didn't murder him."

"I wanted to hurt him," Harry murmured. "I was so mad…"

"I'm not saying you shouldn't feel badly about it. Not that I had any love lost for Kreacher, but the last time I manhandled him, I wound up getting _myself_ killed," Sirius remarked, pulling a face. Harry flinched again, and he sighed. "We'll also have to work on getting your sense of humor back."

Harry choked out, "Dunno if I've got one anymore."

"We'll get you through this. I can tell that's not all that's happened, but you'll make it. We'll get you through," Sirius said. "You're forgiven, Harry. It was an accident. I forgive you."

Harry closed his eyes, feeling tired and drained. "I still can't believe you're here. I missed you so much," he mumbled into Sirius's robe.

"I missed you. I nearly went mad wondering if you had made it out of the Fortress." Sirius said softly. He was rubbing Harry's back again, and Harry was starting to feel more comfortable. Very comfortable, actually. Sirius didn't say anything else, and Harry was feeling too drowsy to make the effort. Besides, he'd just be repeating the same thing over and over.

_Don't ever leave me again don't ever leave me again, please please never leave me again!_

He was more than half-asleep when he felt Sirius easing him back onto the pillow and pulling the blankets over him, and made a groggy protest. The next thing he knew, there was a soft rustle, and a cold nose nudged his hand gently before a warm weight settled at the foot of the bed. He supposed he should tell Sirius he didn't have to do that, that Sirius should be comfortable in his own bed and that he didn't need a watchdog…but that warm presence near his feet and the bleary sight of the bear-like dog curled up with him felt like a barrier against the nightmares, and Harry just couldn't bring himself to refuse it.

* * *

 

The nightmares did stay away for the rest of that night, although even Sirius's presence was not enough to push away the growing sense of dread as the next day came and went with no word of Lupin. Sirius didn't press for more details of the events of the past six months, though Harry did give him a very bare rundown. However, Sirius found out the awkward way just how much Harry had left out two days before Christmas, when news of Remus finally came.

Even Harry hadn't quite realized how much things had changed.

They were in the kitchen cleaning up (all tactfully avoiding mentioning Kreacher) when Professor Snape strode into the kitchen. Sirius dropped an empty bottle of butterbeer, the room went silent, and Harry froze where he was…between them. Snape was wearing that all-too-familiar sneer. "Hello to you too, Black."

"Well, well, Snape," retorted Sirius, stepping around Harry. "Happy Christmas to you. Now what do you want?"

"As much as I loathe to do so, I bear tidings of comfort and joy," Snape drawled, then looked coldly at Harry. Harry gulped. "Your precious werewolf is alive. He is in St. Mungo's and will be released in a few days."

Harry's knees went weak, and Mrs. Weasley stepped over to steady him. "Thank heavens. And thank you for telling us, Severus."

"Madam," said Snape curtly, and turned toward the door.

Harry was just starting to breathe again when Sirius remarked, "Try to contain your disappointment."

"Oh, believe me, Black, the disappointment that _you_ did not have the courtesy to remain deceased renders the werewolf's survival a mere annoyance."

"Professor!" Harry protested, but Snape wasn't finished.

"For that matter, even the Dark Lord's rising again pales in comparison to your being inflicted on the world a second time."

"Sirius, Severus, please!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, glancing at Harry. Harry's mouth was open, but nothing came out. He couldn't believe he was seeing them both at each other's throats as if the last six months had never happened. Why were they still being like this? Hadn't it done enough damage last time? Which one would die this time?

Everyone's wide-eyed gazes were focused on the two men, except for Ron, who was closely watching Harry.

Sirius shot back, "Well, seeing you is certainly enough to make me regret coming back. Too bad your 'Dark Lord' couldn't be considerate enough to do away with you before I arrived."

Snape's lip curled with malice, and he snarled, "At least now I may still look forward to seeing you receive the Dementor's kiss."

Sirius responded with a snarl of his own and started toward Snape.

"BLOODY HELL, THAT'S ENOUGH!" Ron leapt to his feet. Everyone jumped. "Just shut up, both of you!" he shouted.

Snape's head jerked toward Ron, his black eyes flashing dangerously. "You forget yourself, Mr. Weasley."

"I haven't bloody forgotten anything! It's you who's bloody forgotten every bloody thing that's happened in the past six months!" Ron yelled. Snape stared; Ron's face was almost as white as his own. "Bloody get over yourself, you greasy git, and stop acting like a dementor! There's enough of those running loose as it is! And YOU!" Ron spun around and pointed at Sirius, who took a reflexive step back. "For your information, Snape _saved…Harry's…life_ —twice! And bloody near got himself killed both times!"

Harry reached toward him. "Ron, don't—"

"Shut up, Harry!" Ron snapped, without taking his eyes off Sirius and Snape, then he barreled on at Sirius, "Not to mention that he bloody went with Remus and the others to bring your arse out of the Fortress!" Then he swung back toward Snape. "And Remus has been fighting beside you and risking his life— _he's_ let this stupid grudge die, and you know it! But then _he_ comes back," Ron pointed at Sirius, "and you're back to smirking and calling Remus 'werewolf!' Bloody hell, what is it going to take? We're all bloody sick of this, and I'm NOT going to stand here and let you put Harry through it again!"

Silence fell. The only sound in the kitchen was Ron's labored breathing.

It was Percy who finally broke it, standing well out of the way against the kitchen counter. "Ron…I say!"

Then Fred and George sprang from their seats at the table and burst into wild applause. Harry felt someone squeeze his arm, and found Hermione standing next to him, one hand to her throat, tears in her eyes, and a rapt expression on her face as she gazed at Ron.

Snape was also gazing at Ron with a carefully neutral expression. Harry held his breath; he'd never imagined Ron capable of going off on Snape like that, and now couldn't imagine how Snape would react. When Snape finally spoke, he said the last words Harry expected to hear.

"My apologies, Mr. Weasley."

It took several moments for the words to sink in, but then everyone slowly turned toward Sirius. Sirius was staring at Snape with a troubled look on his face. "You saved Harry?"

Harry spoke up hesitantly. "It's true. Voldemort had me twice, and Professor Snape came after me both times." What color was left in Sirius's face drained away. "He blew his cover with the Death Eaters the first time, and went into the Fortress of Shadows anyway. You saw the shape I was in. Even when we got to the mountain, I'd have died that night if he hadn't been there. Now he's probably the only person Voldemort wants dead as much as me."

Sirius was open-mouthed, but Snape's face had gone from carefully neutral to distinctly smug. As Sirius turned mutely toward him, the Potions Master drawled, "You heard him, Black."

"He also did help in the mission to save you, Sirius," said Mrs. Weasley softly.

Snape seemed almost to swell with smugness. Harry sighed inwardly. But Sirius said very quietly, "I don't care about me," and walked slowly toward Snape, his eyes lowered. "Snape…what you may or may not have done for me is immaterial. But for what you did for my godson I am at a loss to express my feelings."

Then Snape was jolted out of his preening as Sirius grabbed him by the front of his robes and planted a big, smacking kiss right on his face. Shrieks of laughter rang out as Snape, growling and sputtering in outrage, wrenched away and flew from the room. Harry's godfather rocked back on his heels, laughing and vigorously wiping his mouth, as Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, "Oh, Sirius Black, will you NEVER grow up?"

That simply made Sirius and the others laugh harder as she rounded on Ron, "And YOU, Ronald Weasley, your language—"

Still laughing, the twins surged forward, each grabbing Ron by an arm and propelling him between them out of the room. Through the door, their voices floated, "Our Ickle Ronniekins, we are so proud of you!"

Hermione burst out laughing, and Harry sat down heavily in the nearest chair.

* * *

 

"I suppose it was too much to hope that those two would declare a real truce," remarked Ron later that evening.

"I don't know, Ron, you got more out of them than I expected," said Ginny, as they sat in the parlor around the chessboard.

Harry moved his rook, only to watch it get demolished by one of Ron's knights. "At least Snape didn't hex Sirius."

"True, though that may just be because he was too revolted," laughed one of the twins. They were helping Hermione put candles on the Christmas tree. She smacked George's hand away when he tried to light them.

"You're not supposed to light them until Christmas!"

"As you wish, m'lady," said Fred. George rolled his eyes.

Harry glanced at the doorway. Sirius was off talking to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and the Grangers, he knew that, but for some reason he felt uneasy when Sirius was out of his sight for long. Well, it had only been about twenty minutes, but still…

"Your move, mate."

Harry blinked down at the board and moved a bishop. Ron's queen took it. Checkmate.

"What time is it?" Harry asked absently.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Fifteen minutes later than the last time you asked me that."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I guess I'm a little distract—"

"This is RIDICULOUS!" Mrs. Weasley's voice echoed down the hall. Everyone looked up.

"Now what's she on about?" exclaimed Ginny.

Then they heard Sirius. " _W_ _ill_ you listen to reason?"

Harry jumped to his feet in alarm. Was it Snape again? But then another voice rang out. " _I_ will decide what's best for my daughter."

"Oh lord, it's my father again!" Hermione growled in outrage and stomped out the door.

Ron followed. "Don't tell me he's trying to take her away again."

"What?" Harry exclaimed. Ginny and the twins grimaced.

"Just let them sort it out, Harry," said George hastily. "This has been going on all year."

But Harry was already heading after his friends. Ginny and the twins caught up with him in the hallway, and they followed the raised voices to find the rest of the Weasleys and Sirius arguing heatedly with the Grangers at the foot of the stairs.

"For heaven's sake, we have this conversation every three days!" Hermione was saying.

"It's too great a risk to take her from here," Sirius insisted.

Mr. Granger retorted, "It's a bigger risk to keep her on the front lines of your wizard war!"

"If you run, they'll follow you." said Bill.

"Hermione's a Muggleborn witch; she'll always be a part of this," added Mr. Weasley.

Mr. Granger drew himself up. "She's not if I say she isn't."

"You cannot change what I am, Dad!" Hermione said.

"They have no right to involve you in this conflict!" Mr. Granger snapped.

"I was _born_ to be involved in it. You can't protect me!"

"I'm your father!"

"If you take her out of here, you're condemning your daughter to death," Sirius warned him. "There's no place in the Muggle world they won't find her."

"But if she's away from Harry Potter, why will they bother looking for her?"

"They know who I am, Dad. They'll never stop looking for me."

Mr. Granger looked hard at Hermione. "I'm not so sure that you're any safer from _him_ ," he pointed at Harry, "than from them!" Harry winced.

He was unprepared for how violently Hermione responded. "Don't you DARE talk about Harry like that!" she roared, her eyes blazing as she went almost purple in the face.

"Hermione Jane Granger, don't use that tone with your father!" Mrs. Granger shouted.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Granger threw up his hands. "But the boy's out of control!" Sirius was white as a ghost, and his jaw was clenched, his eyes blazing. The twins each had a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I've seen what he's capable of, and I don't want my daughter mixed up with this!"

Hermione folded her arms across her chest, with her wand tight in her fingers. In a tone of absolute conviction, she said, "I'm not leaving."

Everyone fell silent.

Mr. Granger glared at her. "You will leave this behind if I say you will, young lady."

Squaring her shoulders, Hermione met his eyes. "No, sir. I won't."

Mr. Granger looked appealingly at his wife. "We're just trying to keep you safe," she whispered.

Softening a little, Hermione said, "You can't."

Mr. Granger stared at his daughter for a long moment. Finally, with a defeated sigh, he turned and walked away, followed by his wife.

Sirius stepped forward and put an arm around Hermione. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them and saw Harry's face. "If you try to apologize, I'll hex you," she said calmly. She walked over, kissed him lightly on the cheek, then turned and went up the stairs.

Ron went with her. Patting Harry's arm or hugging him as they went, the Weasleys trickled out, until Harry was standing alone at the foot of the stairs with Sirius.

"He's right," Harry said, looking at the spot where Kreacher had fallen. "I've got to get myself under control, or they'll never be out of danger."

Sirius nodded. "We'll help you."


	32. Comfort and Joy

Cellophane crackled as Harry unwrapped his fifth Giant Chocolate Cordial. _I really ought to stop eating these things,_ he mused. But he popped it into his mouth, balled up the wrapper, and tossed it across the room.

George and Fred were sitting slouched against the wall in a sugar-induced stupor, with a growing pile of sweet wrappers between them. Fizzing Whizbees, Chocolate Frogs, Double Fudge Nougat Squares, Giant Chocolate Cordials, Sugar-coated Jellied Fruit Balls, and Crystallized Tart Bombs were just a few of the delicacies whose wrappers had been donated to the pile over the last hour of the sweets binge.

Every so often, one of the twins would pick up a wrapper, toss it into the air and use his wand to shoot it across the room.

Hermione and Ginny were basking in the warmth of the fire, lying on the floor in front of the hearth, whispering things to each other and giggling hysterically in a manner reminiscent of Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. Ron was sprawled sideways across an armchair with his legs dangling over the arm and a dazed grin on his face as he watched the sweet wrappers soaring past. (He'd tried to catch a few of them, but missed.)

Harry, sitting on the sofa slumped against Sirius's shoulder, found the whole scene rather funny and kept bursting into fits of helpless snickering. They had all consumed far beyond what ought to be the legal limit for sugar.

One of the twins, with a mischievous grin, shot a balled up wrapper directly at Bill's head. Bill laughed and slapped it back across the room, causing it to ricochet off Percy's nose.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, looking up from his book in outrage.

At Percy's expression, Ron burst out laughing and slid off the chair onto the floor. Pleased with their success, the twins began shooting wrappers wildly in every direction. Crookshanks and Bastet tore around the room in a frenzy, trying to bat as many as they could.

"All right, all right. That's enough." Mrs. Weasley admonished them, stepping over the still giggling Ron to scold the twins.

Just then, a wrapper sailed past her ankle, and the two cats shot after it – straight between her legs. Mrs. Weasley shrieked, lost her balance, and would have fallen if Mr. Weasley hadn't jumped up in time to catch her.

The twins fell into each others arms, tears of laughter streaming down their faces. Ginny and Hermione were rolling on the floor, screaming with laughter. Ron, sprawled on his stomach next to the Christmas tree, was slapping the carpet in hysteria. Harry was laughing so hard, he fell across Sirius's legs and buried his face in the sofa pillows.

Mr. Weasley righted his wife and pulled his wand out of his pocket. "All right! Game's over, you lot. _Evanesco_ "

The wrappers disappeared. "Awwwww!"

Mrs. Weasley rummaged under the tree, pulled out a brightly-colored box and handed it to Charlie. "For heaven's sake, amuse them!"

"Hey, that's for Christmas!" protested Ginny.

"It's Christmas Eve," replied Charlie, taking the box. "Besides, I happen to know Gred and Forge have three more boxes of these. Here, you first." He pulled out a brightly-wrapped cracker.

Ginny obediently scooted across the floor toward him, then paused. "Wait a minute, did you say these are from Fred and George?"

"Totally harmless!" the twins chorused.

"Come on, Gin-gin, where's your Christmas spirit!" Charlie urged, brandishing the cracker.

"Okay," Ginny said mock-reluctantly, and took her end. "One…two…three…"

BANG! Confetti erupted , changing into a large flock of butterflies that set the cats in a frenzy again. The twins burst out laughing. "Charlie got it! Charlie got it!" as Ginny stared open-mouthed at her brother—who was now sporting a luxuriant handlebar moustache.

Charlie laughed too, then tugged at it. "It won't come off!"

"Not for at least three hours," chortled Fred. Charlie grinned, then began twirling the ends of the moustache, making everyone laugh harder.

George jumped up, grabbed a cracker from the box, and ran over to Percy.

"Come on, Perce—your turn."

Percy recoiled in horror. "No way!"

"Oh, go on, Percy, " said Ron, now watching the scene hanging upside down over the side of his arm chair.

"You have to, Percy," pleaded George. Fred began clapping his hands, and soon the entire room was chanting "Percy! Percy!"

Percy squeezed his eyes shut and took his end of the cracker.

"One….two….three…" BANG!

The entire room erupted into hysteria. Percy opened his eyes to see that George had sprouted a huge pair of elf ears.

"That's justice for you!" Harry declared, waving lazily from the sofa.

Fred picked up another cracker. "C'mon, Harry. You're next." Harry shook his head. "Oh, come on!"

Harry shook his head again. "I'm too…flollopy!"

Fred would have pressed further, but Sirius laughed. "For heaven's sake, let the boy flollop!"  
Giggling, Hermione got to her feet. "I'll do it, but I better not wind up with a moustache!"

George laughed. "Fear not, sweet lady, no two tricks are alike in a single box."

With a sporting grin, Hermione took the other end of Fred's cracker, and shut her eyes.

"One….two…three…" BANG!

Everyone yelled simultaneously. Hermione's eyes flew open as everyone laughed and cheered. Hermione looked at Fred, and finding him suspiciously normal, began feeling over her face and examining her clothes. Ginny squealed, "Oh, Hermiiiione! Look up!"

She did, and gasped, "Oh, no!"

Ron sat bolt upright in his chair. "Wait just a bloody minute!"

A large sprig of mistletoe was hovering in the air over Hermione's head.

At her look of horror, George said gleefully, "You're bound, Miss Granger, to kiss a man—willingly—unrelated to you by blood."

Hermione folded her arms. "I'm bound I will NOT!"

Fred pointed at the mistletoe, triumphantly. "It stays there until you do, which makes you prey to every Weasley malein the room."

Ginny rolled on the floor, singing, "Ronnnnieeee!"

Ron's face was red to the roots of his hair. "I don't bloody perform on command!"

"What!" George exclaimed. "Won't even spare a little kiss to protect your lady's virtue?"

At that, Fred started towards Hermione with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Fred Weasley, if you touch me, I'll hex you three ways from Sunday!" Hermione threatened, backing up fast.

"Sorry, love," leered Fred. "Your wand won't work against prospective mistletoe-mates. We made sure of that."

As Hermione was backing up faster with a look of horror on her face, and Ron was scrambling out of his chair, the parlor door opened.

Hermione's mouth dropped open, and with a squeal of "Remus!" she launched herself at the shabby wizard standing in the doorway. Flinging her arms around his neck, she kissed him enthusiastically.

As the entire room exploded around them, Remus blinked, then laughed. "Why, thank you, Hermione."

The mistletoe had disappeared, but no one noticed as everyone crowded around to hug, shake hands, and exclaim over Remus Lupin. Even while accepting the raucous welcome, Remus's eyes were scanning the room. He went suddenly still as he observed Harry and Sirius standing together in front of the sofa. As if directed by an unheard signal, the group quieted and moved aside, and Remus walked over to the two. He smiled at Harry and gave his shoulder a squeeze, then turned to Sirius. For a long moment, they stared at each other in silence.

Finally Remus spoke. "Welcome back, Padfoot."

Harry felt tears prickling his eyes. _Great, I'm going to start blubbering again!_

Sirius grinned at Remus. "Thanks for coming to get me, Moony." The two men embraced fiercely. Behind them, Ginny and Hermione began sobbing uncontrollably. Harry's eyes stung fiercely, but Ron and the twins were crying too, and even Percy was sniffing and rubbing his eyes.

Remus looked around the group with a startled expression. Sirius rolled his eyes. "Oh no, not again! Molly!"

Molly Weasley, wiping her own eyes, stepped forward and began to herd the others out of the room. "All right. Enough for tonight. Fred and George, Ron, Hermione, Ginny—up to your rooms. Percy, Bill, Charlie—join your father and me in the kitchen, please."

Hermione sniffled. "What about Harry?" The group paused and looked back at him.

Remus smiled. "I have a few things I'd like to discuss with Harry before he turns in. I'll see the rest of you tomorrow."

Hermione nodded and headed out the door, followed by Ron. Harry couldn't suppress a grin, when he noticed that Ron had something in his hand hidden behind his back—something that looked suspiciously like a sprig of mistletoe. The others filed out behind them and closed the door, leaving Harry alone with Remus and Sirius.

Remus sat down on the sofa, and let out a sigh. He suddenly looked pale and tired. Harry and Sirius were beside him instantly.

"Remus?" Harry said. "Remus, are you okay?"

"I can call Molly back if you need her, Remus." Sirius was clearly concerned. "You don't look well."

Remus reached over and put an arm around Harry. "No, really. I'll be fine. I'm just a little tired. They wanted to keep me at St. Mungo's for a few more days, but I'd no intention of missing Christmas."

Harry felt his eyes brimming again. _Damn! Why do I keep doing this?_ "Remus, what happened?"

Sirius nodded. "I wanted them to let me go back and join the search for you, but they felt that they had enough Aurors scouring the area. Dumbledore insisted that I stay here. I was none too happy about that order, believe me!"

"It was the right decision." Remus spoke quietly. "Harry needed you with him. And if any Death Eater had gotten a chance at you again, they'd have killed you on the spot." He broke into a grin. "How many times can you expect to get resurrected anyway?"

Sirius laughed. "So, what _did_ happen to you?"

Remus shook his head. "The Fortress was much better manned with Death Eaters than during my last visit there. We met a lot of opposition while trying to get inside. I was hit almost right away, and knocked out cold. Once I came to, and tried to join the others, I ran into our least favorite witch."

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry said flatly. "What happened then?"

"She was pretty confident that she could finish me off, so she decided to 'play' a little. She's got some lovely hexes that she uses, just to cause maximum pain and injury. I took a direct hit from one of those." Sirius cringed and looked away.

Harry felt short of breath. "Remus, what did you…how'd you get away?" he asked, reaching up to touch the arm around his shoulders, just to reassure himself that Remus was really there.

"A couple of Aurors showed up. They were much more of a threat to Lestrange than I was, at that point. She took off, and they went after her. By that time, I wasn't thinking very clearly. I managed to make my way into the Forest, then finally back to the Mountain."

"How did you manage to avoid the Death Eaters?" Sirius asked. "The Forest must have been crawling with them."

"It was." Remus gave a dry chuckle. "I _am_ a werewolf, you know. I'm rather good at skulking through the woods unseen."

Harry and Sirius both laughed. "And then?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Aurors picked me up on the mountain a couple of days later. At least, that's what they tell me." Remus shook his head. "I don't remember much until I woke up in St. Mungo's."

"But, how did you survive until the Aurors found you?" Harry shivered, remembering the cold cave in which he'd been sheltered by Snape, while the werewolf had stood guard outside.

"Truthfully, Harry," Remus stared into space. "I don't know. Somehow, the mountain kept me alive until help came. Maybe with the same magic that enabled me to keep my mind intact while I transformed when we were there before. We may never know what it was."

Harry tried to smile, but his eyes filled up again. Remus pulled him closer and shot a worried look at Sirius. Acknowledging the look with a nod, Sirius said, "He's had a rough time." Sirius described Harry's loss of control that had led to the death of Kreacher. "Then I turned up and shocked the hell out of him."

Remus's look of concern deepened. "How did you react?

Sheepishly, Harry muttered, "I fainted."

Remus laughed, in spite of himself. "I don't blame you!"

"And then," Sirius continued, "I got the exact same treatment from the rest of them that you did just now. I've never seen so many people crying at the same time!"

"Whew!" Remus wiped his forehead in a gesture of exaggerated relief. "Thank God for Molly Weasley!" This time, they all laughed.

The grin left Harry's face. "There's something else. Hermione's parents are here, and they're really upset. Her dad wants to take her away from here. He's convinced that I'm as much a threat to her as the Death Eaters."

"You?" Remus looked at Harry, who dropped his gaze to the floor and refused to meet his eyes. "Because you burned her hair?"

Harry's voice shook slightly. "Because he saw what happened to Kreacher."

Remus turned to Sirius. "We need to see Mr. Granger first thing in the morning and convince hm not to remove Hermione. She won't last long away from here."

"Actually," Sirius responded, "that's been taken care of by Hermione herself. She let him know, in no uncertain terms, that she won't leave. He had to concede the point."

Remus gave a sigh of relief. "It can't be easy for her, pulled between two worlds like that." He shook his head. "I'm glad it's settled, in any case. Now, back to Harry."

Harry pulled a face. "Mr. Granger's right. I'm a threat to everyone when I can't control my emotions—or my magic. And there's no way I can handle Voldemort if I can't handle myself."

Remus said, "Then we'll make working on that a priority,and now you'll have both of us to help you."

Sirius got up and came to sit on the other side of Harry. "Wandless magic is difficult to control. But if indoor hurricanes and shattering windows are any indication, you could give Voldemort hell once you mastered that power."

The chiming of a clock interrupted them, and they sat together listening to it ring out twelve times.

Remus squeezed Harry's shoulders. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

Sirius repeated the gesture from the other side. "I say, shouldn't we be lighting the candles?"

They both pulled out their wands and headed for the tree. Harry sat and watched. Even though the Christmas candles didn't cast much light over the parlor, Grimmauld Place no longer felt so gloomy. The house was full now, and the people here were his family.

The war and the prophecy weren't going away, but the gnawing fear that had consumed him for six months was gone. He still had a battle to fight, but he wouldn't be alone.

_I can do this._

* * *

 

Harry was awakened on Christmas morning by several bodies abruptly bouncing upon his bed. He clawed his way out of the covers, grunting in surprise, to be greeted by three red heads hovering over him. "All right, Potter, up, up, UP!" ordered Ron. "We've got presents to open."

"Geroff!" Harry grumbled, but hid his grin in his pillow.

"Come on, come on, Father Christmas has been here!" Ron insisted, tugging at the bedclothes.

Harry playfully buried his head under the pillow. "Bah, humbug!"

"Oh dear, the lad's getting obstinate on us," he heard the twins say. "This may call for drastic measures!"

"Hey!" he protested. "You can't hex me on Christmas Day!"

"You're being a grinch!" Ron retorted, laughing.

With a melodramatic groan, Harry pulled the pillow tighter over his ears, but found he couldn't hold the blanket at the same time, which led to the bedclothes being yanked off unceremoniously and someone grabbing his ankles. "Up with you! UP!" George and Ron were bellowing, dragging him from the bed.

"Hey, whatever happened to Peace on Earth?" he demanded as they herded him out the door in his pajamas.

"No time for peace on earth," replied George. "We're to gather up the girls and head for the parlor."

When they reached Hermione and Ginny's bedroom door, the twins forewent knocking and instead burst into song.

" _We three kings of Orient are,  
_ _Smoking on a rubber cigar!  
_ _As we smoked it,  
_ _It exploded—  
_ _We two kings of Orient are,  
_ _Smoking on a rubber—_ "

The door flew open. "That's disgusting!" Hermione exclaimed, aghast. (Ginny was doubled over laughing.)

"And a merry Christmas to you too, Miss Granger," said Fred primly.

They took the stairs in a wild rush only to be brought up short by a pair of firmly closed parlor doors. Turning the knobs, knocking tentatively, then pounding, even Hermione's casting of _Alohomora_ failed to gain them entrance to the room. Puzzled, the group stepped back, stared at the doors, then at each other.

As Harry and Ron shrugged helplessly, the twins nodded firmly at each other and burst into song again at the top of their voices.

_"'Ark the 'erald, ayngels siiing,  
_ _Gloray_ _tew the new bohn Kiiing!  
_ _Payce_ _on Arth and Mercey Myyyald,  
_ _Gawd_ _and sinners recawnciled!"_

The doors flew open. "There'll be no peace on Earth with all that blooming noise going on!" laughed Mr. Weasley. "Okay, we're ready for you!"

"What, no tip?" demanded the twins as the group followed him in.

Then they stopped.

The room had expanded to twice its normal size and was lit with hundreds of candles and a blazing fire in the hearth. In a velvet armchair beside the Christmas tree sat a gigantic figure, Father Christmas himself from the looks of it. His hair and beard were white and curly, a wreath of holly was on his head, and he wore deep green robes trimmed in fur. There was a smile on his face as he beckoned the group closer.

Giving a deep chuckle, he demanded, "All righ' then, ready fer yer presents?"

"Hagrid!" everyone said at once.

"That's Father Christmas ter you, now sitcherselves down so we can get started!" said the transformed Hagrid. "Lotsa stuff here, someone's been well-behaved this year!"

They all scrambled to obey, and Harry watched in delight as brightly-wrapped packages began sailing in every direction to land neatly at the recipients' feet. The rush of gifts seemed to last forever; Harry had Christmas gifts ever since starting at Hogwarts, but he'd never been part of anything quite like this. Something had always been distracting them on Christmases past.

Not this year.

Finally everyone in the room had a respectable pile of gifts in front of them. Harry spotted Sirius and Remus standing against the wall (they were conducting the gift-delivery with their wands) and started to get up, but they waved him back down, both grinning broadly.

Hagrid opened his arms wide in a grand Father Christmas gesture. "Merry Christmas ter all! Well, don't just sit there, open 'em!"

Wrapping and ribbons flew in all directions. Harry usually liked to take unwrapping presents slowly, but today he just wasn't in the mood. The first one was a book: Catching the Golden Snitch, A History of Famous Seekers. The tag read, _To one Seeker from another!_

He flipped through the book to see moving pictures of Seekers performing various wild maneuvers before cheering throngs and saw that there was a chapter entirely on the most successful Snitch-catching tricks. "Wow, Ginny! This is great!" he exclaimed.

Ginny grinned. "Thought you'd like that. And thanks for the broom-servicing kit!"

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, and Harry saw that Ron had opened his present. "When did you do this!" Harry's gift to Ron was a photo album of Ron at Quidditch—blocking the Quaffle, dodging Bludgers, being borne off the field on the shoulders of his teammates.

Harry laughed. "I got the pictures from Colin Creevy. He's built up a huge collection."

"Yeah, it turns out once in awhile he does take pictures of someone other than Harry," Ginny chuckled.

Ron passed the album off to Bill, Charlie, and the twins, and the book disappeared beneath a pile of red heads. On the other side of Harry, Hermione suddenly gasped. She had just opened Ron's gift. Harry turned to see her lifting from the box what appeared to be a string of peach and gold pearls that gleamed softly in the candlelight.

"Oh, _Ron!_ "

Harry leaned forward, fascinated. The pearls didn't alternate their colors, but appeared to be on the string at random. Ginny exclaimed, "A Pearl Pea string! Oh, it's lovely!"

As Hermione cast a delighted smile at Ron and slipped the string around her neck, Mrs. Weasley asked, "What pattern charm did you use, Ron? I don't know the color schemes by heart."

Predictably, it was Hermione who answered. "It's protection and serenity...and it's beautiful. I love it, Ron!" She scrambled past Harry to Ron's side, then glanced nervously at the others and hugged him instead of what everyone expected.

"Aww," the twins groaned, "Come on, Hermione, you can do better than that."

"Sod off," Ron told them. "And thanks for this," he added to her, holding up a book of Chudley Cannons' Greatest Plays.

Ginny winked at Harry, and he grinned, turning back to his last gift. It was a familiar knobby bundle, and Harry had saved it for last. "Terrific," he said, holding up the emerald green jumper with the gold 'H' on the front. "This one's always my favorite."

The sound of a helpless sob made him drop the jumper in surprise. He turned to see Mrs. Weasley practically collapsing onto Mr. Weasley's shoulder, smiling broadly but with tears streaming down her face. Harry's mouth fell open. "I—I—is she—"

Mr. Weasley laughed. "You've just made her Christmas, Harry!"

* * *

 

After a massive breakfast, they returned to the parlor, which was back to its usual size. There the twins enticed them into a round of one of their newest games.

"That's cheating," Ginny exclaimed, as Ron threw down the King of Clubs and reached over greedily to scoop up the pile of shining chips. "That was _my_ card!"

"Not so, Gin-Gin," said Fred. "It's perfectly legal in Weasley Poker for the cards to decide to leave your hand and move to someone else's."

"Honestly," groused Hermione. "What made them decide to favor Ron this game?"

"Obviously they sense my luck, my skill, my—"

Chips went flying as Harry, Ginny, and the twins piled on top of Ron. Then Hermione joined the fray, giggling hysterically, until they all collapsed on the floor. "Whew! That was one wild poker game," Harry gasped.

"Weasley Poker, played with a deck of cards from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," said Fred, "guarantees a more than ordinary game."

"Hey!" said George. "Good slogan!" He poked Hermione. "Write that down!"

"Pardon!" Hermione laughed, slapping his hand away. "Do I look like your secretary?"

The parlor door opened. "What's all this, then?" They all looked up to see Tonks entering the room, wearing a short green dress, red and green striped tights, and red boots. Her hair was green and curly, and the tip of each curl was red.

"Tonks!" exclaimed George. "You look like a deranged Christmas elf!"

"Thanks! That's just the look I was trying for," said Tonks. "Got the Aurors' Christmas party tonight, have to show up in style!"

"You'll knock them dead," Ginny declared. "Even if it's only from fright."

Tonks winked, then looked around. "Where the devil's Sirius! It's Christmas Day, he's bloody back from the dead, and I haven't seen him yet!"

Just then the door opened again and Sirius and Remus entered, chatting merrily and carrying mugs of hot buttered rum. Tonks whirled around and threw herself at Sirius with a shriek. Remus sidestepped her and smoothly removed the mug of rum from Sirius's hand before the full impact of Tonks's greeting—with minimal spillage.

"I can't believe it," Tonks squealed. "Is it really you!"

"It's really me, little cousin," Sirius laughed, twirling her around. (Remus ducked, still clutching the mugs of rum.)

Behind him, Harry heard Hermione sniffle. Sirius dropped Tonks in an inelegant heap on the floor and whipped out his wand. Brandishing it at Hermione, he threatened, "Hermione Granger, you start crying again, and I promise, you'll be wearing a mistletoe wreath for the rest of the day!"

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, and the entire room burst into laughter. The door opened yet again and the rest of the Weasleys entered, accompanied by Mad-Eye Moody and a waft of delicious aroma.

"Mum!" exclaimed Ron. "When do we eat? I'm starving."

Hermione gave him a shove. "Really, Ronald. All you think about is eating!"

"In about an hour," said Mrs. Weasley. "Assuming I can get Hagrid to stop sampling everything."

The twins jumped up. "We'll roust him out!" They swung open the doors, only step back abruptly.

Professor Snape was standing in the doorway. Harry tensed immediately (and he wasn't the only one.) "Forgive the intrusion, Madam," Snape said.

"Is anything wrong?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

Snape gave a curt shake of his head. "I only require a word with Moody."

"Right, then," Moody followed Snape into the hallway, where they talked quietly for a moment, but Harry got the impression that it wasn't anything terribly urgent. Then Moody beckoned to Arthur Weasley, who joined the conversation. After muttering amongst themselves for a few more moments, Moody and Mr. Weasley nodded and stepped back into the parlor, and Snape turned to go.

"Severus," Mrs. Weasley called after him. "Won't you stay for Christmas dinner?"

Harry managed to keep from cringing at the thought as Snape's eyes flashed around the room. Ron wasn't so successful, and Hermione forced a polite smile. Sirius glared openly, but Remus said, "Yes, please join us, Severus."

Snape actually hesitated. But then he shook his head. "No. Thank you, Madam." He nodded toward Mrs. Weasley. "I must return to Hogwarts." He vanished down the hall in the swirl of robes.

Harry heard the others let out sighs of relief, and let out one of his own, but a thought suddenly occurred to him: what did someone like Snape do on Christmas? The thought was followed by a twinge of some emotion he couldn't quite identify, and he hastily turned his attention back to his friends.

* * *

 

Christmas dinner was served on time after the twins rousted Hagrid from the kitchen—and it was everything Harry had expected. The table had to be expanded to make enough room for all the Weasleys, Sirius and Remus, Tonks and Moody, Hagrid, and Mundungus Fletcher. And even after the expansion, the table almost collapsed beneath the weight of all the food. It was as good as anything served at Hogwarts.

Everyone was in high spirits, and ate until they were nearly ill. You could almost forget there was a war on.

After dinner, Dumbledore arrived, bringing with him a large cauldron of Christmas punch. They sat in the once-again-enlarged parlor and toasted the season, followed by several raucous rounds of Christmas carols, concluding with George and Fred teaching everyone the "special" version of _We Three Kings._

Tonks, seated comfortably in Remus's lap, was engaging Percy in a very earnest debate about the merits of green hair. Percy was flushed and bright-eyed from a combination of Christmas spirit and Christmas spirits. Harry had never seen the middle Weasley so relaxed, slumped against Charlie on the sofa.

"No, really, the red with green tips was too garish," Tonks insisted (a little flushed herself despite her Metamorphmagus skills.) "I showed them both to Remus; he liked the green, didn't you?" she asked her human chair.

"Whatever you say," Remus replied, breezily.

Percy drew himself up in mock offense, "And _why_ should _his_ opinion matter more than mine?"

" _You're_ not in the Order!" Tonks retorted haughtily. "And come to think of it, we ought to do something about that!"

"Oy?" said Charlie, perking up.

Percy blinked. "Oy?"

"Albus!" Tonks said loudly. "Don't you agree it's high time Young Mister Weasley," she gestured dramatically at Percy, "joined the Order?"

Dumbledore cocked his head thoughtfully at Percy. "I shouldn't wish to prejudice him with our wishes, my dear Miss Tonks. Whether Mister Weasley joins the Order of the Phoenix is his decision alone."

Dumbledore might have succeeded in putting Percy at ease if the entire room hadn't fallen dead silent, with everyone staring. Percy blinked again. "Er...you mean you... _want_ me to join the Order?"

Bill threw up his hands. "Of course we do, you stupid prat! You're a smart little tick with a good head on your shoulders and a sense of decency when all's said and done. You'd be a big help to the Order! Not to mention that we'd be proud to have you."

"Bloody right," agreed Charlie. "What about it?"

Percy looked to his parents, who smiled tentatively and nodded. Then he looked at the twins, who were sitting up on the floor and watching him with, for once, sincerely hopeful expressions. Then he slowly turned back to Dumbledore. "Er...if you really want me...of course I'd be honored to join the Order."

" _YYYYEEEOW_ " The twins launched themselves onto Percy, slapping his back and knuckling his head, as Harry and the Order members burst into applause.

Tonks leaned past Remus to kiss Percy on the cheek. "Welcome aboard, mate."

"Thanks," Percy muttered, now quite red in the face and looking remarkably like Ron.

Moody clunked over to shake Percy's hand, then glanced at his watch. "Merlin's beard! Up, Tonks, we're late!"

Tonks swore under her breath and scrambled to her feet. "Sorry, lads, gotta go! Auror Christmas party!"

"Behave yourselves!" admonished Mr. Weasley.

"Never!"

"See if you can win over a few people," said Remus, then he turned to Dumbledore. "Any chance of persuading Priscilla to join the Order, Albus?"

Mundungus Fletcher snorted. "That one? Not bloody likely, she's too by-the-book. One step outside the law is too far for her."

"Thus speaketh someone who's been arrested by her three times," laughed Sirius.

"So I oughtta know!"

Dumbledore laughed. "I'm afraid my efforts to win her over have consistently failed. It appears now the best chance of _persuading_ Priscilla falls into Alastor's domain."

Harry felt himself cringe, and saw Ron, Ginny, and the twins responding in the same way. Moody swung around in the doorway and shot a grin at Remus, a grin that could only be described as lascivious. Remus laughed aloud and Mundungus gave an answering leer as Moody exited, and Harry and the others collapsed on the ground in horror.

"There are some things that simply should not be shared with the general public," muttered Fred.

* * *

 

By the time they went to bed, it was well past midnight, and Harry felt warmer inside than he'd ever imagined possible. Part of that probably had to do with the amount of food and punch he'd had, but he knew the rest was due entirely to having just spent the most wonderful Christmas in his life.

They all tramped up the stairs, talking and giggling sleepily and absently humming Christmas carols. Bill was carrying Ginny on his back, Ron and Hermione were arm-in-arm, and Sirius and Remus each had an arm around Harry's shoulders. At each bedroom door, there were drowsy and happy good-night's. The Grangers said goodnight to Hermione and the rest of the wizards, and Mr. Granger even patted Harry on the shoulder as they went off to their room. Sirius ruffled Harry's hair and gave him a fierce hug, then Harry followed Ron to say goodnight to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, this has been such a wonderful Christmas," Mrs. Weasley was sighing as she kissed her assorted children outside her bedroom door. "I'll cherish this for a long time. Sleep well, Harry, dear," she said, releasing Ron and holding out her arms to him.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he said, letting her hug him, and it hit him in a rush that for the first time, being hugged by her didn't hurt. So then he surprised both himself and her by kissing her on the cheek. "Thanks for everything."

"You deserve it, dear," she told him firmly, cupping his cheek. "Merry Christmas."

Harry waved goodnight, then headed off to the room he shared with Ron. When he crawled into bed and blew out the last candle, he felt as though he were still glowing.

* * *

 

He was lounging in a stone chair on a raised platform, with a cold, damp mist filtering in from the open window, watching black-robed wizards toiling before him. An enormous snake half-coiled at his feet, raising its giant head now and then to flick its tongue curiously at the shivering, terrified prisoners being herded into the room.

One of the Death Eaters knelt at his feet. "Who is this?" Harry asked.

"Thomas Henderson, Master. Auror. And family," the masked Death Eater said, gesturing to the cowering woman with her arms around a teenaged boy huddled behind a staggering, bleeding man. Harry regarded them. "Muggle wife. The son is the Hogwarts Head Boy."

"A half-breed Head Boy. What is Hogwarts coming to?" Harry sighed lightly. He gestured to another hooded wizard hovering against the wall. "You know what to do."

The Death Eater bowed again and rose. "Come!" he said to the hooded figure. "Let's get to work." He pulled off his mask and turned matter-of-factly to the prisoners.

The bleeding man spat, struggling in the grasps of two other Death Eaters. "Lucius Malfoy. I might have known."

"Yes, you might," said Lucius. He waved the other Death Eaters off, and the shorter, hooded figure came to his side. "What we're about here, you see, is one of two things: getting information or getting a message across. What you're going to learn is effective for either, but tonight we're just sending a message. Decent pureblood wizards who go around breeding half-bloods and opposing the Dark Lord have to be taught a lesson."

"Ergo," said Bellatrix Lestrange, pulling off her own mask. "You get a lesson in giving lessons tonight, love!" She lounged back against the wall to watch the show. Harry watched silently.

"Exactly, Bella," chuckled Lucius. He drew his wand and gazed thoughtfully at the Auror and his family. "So the question is, do we hex the man of the house first or his wife and son while he watches? Which is most effective?"

Another Death Eater facetiously raised a hand, and Bella cuffed her. "You've passed this lesson already, Delilah, let the lad answer!"

The hooded figure was silent for a moment, then muttered, "The Auror? He's the most powerful..."

Delilah Hornby groaned loudly, and Bella and Lucius shook their heads. "No, no, no!" Bella scolded. "Always start with the family first!"

"Leave them out of this!" Henderson shouted. "I'm an Auror; it's me you want! Let them go, and you can do what you like with me!"

Lucius paused and tilted his head. "Why?"

The dark-haired boy, about seventeen years old, wrapped his arms around his mother and glared darkly at the Death Eaters. Harry mused that it was a pity he was half-blooded. Had he been pure, he might have made a worthy recruit.

Lucius went on, "You see, Henderson, your whole family is valuable to us at the moment. We're engaging in a little hands-on training. I believe you Muggles," he actually half-bowed to Henderson's wife, "call it 'take your son to work.'"

"Don't be shy, lad," said Rudolphus Lestrange, pulling his mask off. "Show your face. None of that lot's going to be in a position to tell."

Slowly, the silent wizard raised a hand and pulled the hood from his face, revealing pale blond hair, aristocratic features, and gray eyes. The Auror's son, Wesley Henderson, recoiled. "Bloody hell, Draco Malfoy!"

Draco smiled. "Why so shocked, Henderson? Were you expecting Dumbledore?"

Wesley surged in front of his mother. "You don't have to do this! Come on! You're a bloody schoolkid and you've got a brain! Why do you need to get your kicks torturing people!"

"It's not to get kicks!" Draco protested, looking wounded. He raised his wand. "It's to get an education! _Crucio_ _!"_

Wesley yelled and staggered back, but the spell ended quickly. Draco turned and cast a nervous glance over his shoulder at Harry. "Well," muttered Hornby. " _That_ will never do."

"It didn't work," Draco sighed, looking discouraged.

Lucius scowled, but Bella intervened. "Come on, Lucius, be patient. Takes a few tries. You've got to _want_ it, Draco!"

Now Death Eaters were restraining both Henderson and his wife as their son staggered to his feet. "What are you, their bloody house elf?"

"I'm a student. You're Head Boy, don't you do what the teachers say?" Draco retorted. He raised his wand again.

_"Don't!"_

_"Crucio!"_

Again, it seemed to come up short. Draco was now cringing and not daring to glance in Harry's direction. Lucius did, but Harry did not react. He merely watched. "That's not acceptable, Draco!" Lucius said tightly.

"What am I doing wrong?" Draco asked, a hint of fear in his voice.

"You've got the right outcome in your mind," remarked Hornby, eyeing the grunting boy. "That's just not enough, love. You need more _feeling_ behind it!"

"Malice, Draco," added Bella. "You must want agony! Come on, try again! Don't worry, you'll get it. He'll get it, Lucius. The night's young, he'll get a scream out of them yet."

Lucius nodded, and Draco tried again. Still it wasn't a successful Cruciatus. The younger Malfoy swore and turned away. Lucius's scowl grew darker, but Bella made a tutting noise, and he held his temper in check. "Let's try another approach. Draco, look at him."

Draco came back and obeyed. Wesley, on his knees, was now genuinely frightened and stared at the younger boy with wide eyes. "You don't have to do this," he whispered. "I've never done anything to you!"

"Hasn't he?" asked Lucius, speaking to Draco. "Think of his kind, Draco. Half-bloods, the Mudbloods. Is this impure creature worthy to take points from you? To demand any kind of deference from you? Think of the indignities your father suffered in Azkaban at the behest of this creature and his kind. Think, Draco. Think of Harry Potter."

Taking a deep, slow breath, Draco raised his wand again. _"CRUCIO!"_

And the Fortress of Shadows filled with Wesley Henderson's screams.


	33. Three Violent People

When Harry came downstairs the next morning, bleary-eyed and feeling as though a long time had passed since Christmas, Professor Snape met him in the hall. "Come to the parlor, Mr. Potter. The headmaster is here."

Startled, Harry hesitated, but the look Snape gave him brooked no delay, so he tightened his dressing gown around his pajamas and followed. He heartily wished he'd gotten dressed before leaving his room, when he found not only Dumbledore, but Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, Sirius, Remus, and the elder Weasleys waiting too.

"Good morning, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I am sorry to trouble you before breakfast, but we must have a report on your vision as soon as possible."

Harry took the seat Mrs. Weasley offered him and, with a deep breath, plunged into the recount. He'd been dosed with Dreamless Sleep Potion after waking up screaming at four in the morning, but his skull still ached from the force of the vision. To say nothing of his heart. The Order members remained quiet for the most part, though Moody and Tonks occasionally muttered to each other, and halfway through, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione came in. Mrs. Weasley moved to stop them, but Dumbledore raised a hand and nodded to them. They settled silently on the floor at Sirius and Remus's feet.

When Harry came to the part about Draco Malfoy, he looked fixedly at Dumbledore, but couldn't help noticing movement out of the corner of his eye. Snape stiffened at the first mention of Malfoy, then shifted restlessly where he stood as the report went on, gritting his teeth. The motion reminded Harry of something, but he couldn't think what. The only time Snape looked directly at Harry, rather than out the window or at Dumbledore, was when Harry reported that Malfoy hadn't been the one to deliver the Killing Curse. Snape went dead still then.

"He did not attempt it?" asked Dumbledore softly.

Harry shook his head. "He tortured them all 'till...he was really worn out, then Lestrange killed each of them."

"How did Lucius Malfoy respond to this?" Snape asked tightly.

"He seemed pretty pleased. Everyone did. Kept talking about Malfoy's potential," Harry muttered, sickened by the memory. By the time he'd mercifully awakened, Wesley had been dead, his Muggle mother too, and his father had been screaming at the Death Eaters to just finish it.

After he'd finished talking, he sat watching them all digest the report, and did his best not to fidget. At length, Dumbledore, who had been gazing absently out the window while Harry spoke, favored him with a brief glance and said, "We've much to do before you return to Hogwarts."

Moody sighed heavily. "We'll let the divisions know to keep an eye out for the Hendersons." Harry knew what he meant: the Aurors would be looking for bodies.

"Poor Wes," murmured George.

Bill crossed the room and pulled a white-faced Ginny into his arms. Hermione had her head on Ron's shoulder. "Did you know him well?" asked Bill.

Fred nodded. "Nice chap. Good sense of humor. Spent a lot of money at the Zonko's party." Harry looked away from them.

"I presume you're here to resume Occlumency, Severus," said Remus wearily.

It was Dumbledore who answered. "Of course. It is vital that we redouble our efforts. Harry, you'll be taking lessons from Professor Snape here in the evenings until you return to school." Harry nodded dully. "In the mean time, why don't you have some breakfast? I know this was a cruel intrusion into your holiday."

Harry nodded again and started for the door, then paused. "Professor. I was wondering something. Is there anyone who could teach me to use wandless magic?"

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Basic wandless magic is fairly simple to master, especially for a wizard of your talents." He demonstrated by putting out and relighting a candle with a flick of his hand. "Beyond that, it depends very much on the wizard."

"I could teach him," said Sirius eagerly.

"Actually," said Dumbledore. "Perhaps Remus would not mind continuing his professorial duties over the holidays. Wandless magic centers upon the controlling and directing of impulses. Remus knows a good deal about that skill."

"I'm certainly willing," said Remus. Sirius looked disappointed.

Ron and Hermione spoke up simultaneously. "Could we learn it too?"

"Me too!" added Ginny.

"Us too," said the twins. "Not as if it won't come in handy!"

"An excellent point, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore chuckled. "Sirius, we could use the skills of both you and Remus, in that case."

Sirius brightened at once. "I'd love to!"

Dumbledore smiled and rose. "That's settled then. Off to breakfast with you, Harry. You have a busy holiday ahead." He smiled and left the parlor.

As Harry and the others headed for the door, Snape said curtly, "Report to the basement kitchen at seven tonight, Potter."

* * *

 

No one had much appetite after hearing (and in Harry's case, witnessing) the demise of their classmate, but Mrs. Weasley gently pestered them until they all forced something down. "You especially, Harry, you're skin and bones! Sirius thinks we haven't been feeding you!"

Harry flushed, and the twins snickered into their porridge. "Better humor her, mate."

But when they returned to the parlor after breakfast, Professor Snape was still there—facing off with Sirius again. "I _said,_ it's out of the question," Snape snarled.

"And _I_ say, it's not your decision," Sirius barked.

"Sirius, Severus!" Remus exclaimed, seeing Harry in the doorway.

Snape glanced at Harry and subsided, but Sirius didn't. "While you're conducting these lessons in _my_ house with _my_ godson, _I_ will be there!"

"What?" Harry looked back and forth between the two of them. "What's going on?"

Ron and Hermione hastily took themselves and the rest of the Weasleys from the room and shut the door. Sirius waited until they'd gone, then said matter-of-factly. "Harry, I'm going to be sitting in on your Occlumency lessons."

Harry blinked. "Oh." Why Snape would have a problem with that, he had no idea—other than the usual objection to spending any time voluntarily with Sirius.

He was surprised by Snape's answer, which was almost calm. "Black, I have conducted these lessons alone since last year. There's no reason to change the situation now."

As surprised as Harry by the reasonable words, Sirius visibly checked his own temper. "I _understand_ ," he said tightly, "that the situation is different at Hogwarts, but while these lessons you're conducting are here, in _my_ home, with _my_ godson, I will be present."

"It will be detrimental to Potter's progress," Snape retorted sharply.

"Codswallop!" Sirius snapped, but Harry stepped forward.

"Sir, I don't understand how Sirius being there would be a problem."

"He has a point, Severus," Remus added. "Sirius's presence might be helpful for Harry to clear his mind."

Snape replied, "I have no doubt it would. And that is precisely my point." Harry and Sirius exchanged a confused frown, but Snape went on, "Black's presence would aid Potter in clearing his mind—during _lessons._ But not in an attack by the Dark Lord."

Sirius started to protest, but Remus held up a hand and said, "I'm afraid we're not following you."

With a heavy sigh, Snape said slowly, "I concede that Black's presence would make Occlumency lessons easier for Potter. And therein lies my concern: in the event that Potter is subjected to a mental attack by the Dark Lord in person, he is even less likely to be able to rely on Black's 'supportive presence' than on his wand."

With a sinking feeling, Harry understood. "Oh, I...guess I understand."

Sirius folded his arms. "I don't care."

"You don't care about your godson's ability to mount an effective mental defense? That's rich, Black—"

"I don't trust you alone with him, Snape, and while it's in my power, I'm bloody supervising to make sure _you_ aren't the one doing more harm than good—"

"That's not fair, Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, and both men fell silent in surprise. Swallowing hard in the face of their stares, he said quietly, "The lessons...went better this year. I'm getting better, I mean. I think maybe he's right...it'd just be better if we kept going the way we've been."

The expression on his godfather's face was so stunned—and hurt—that Harry couldn't help cringing. Sirius noticed it, and forcibly calmed himself. "Harry, I could help you."

"Yeah," Harry said weakly, trying to force a smile. "You could, I know it. It'd make the lessons a lot easier if you were there." To his credit, Sirius responded in kind, but neither of their smiles met their eyes. Snape watched with a carefully blank face. "But maybe the lessons should be hard. After all...I've got to be ready to face off Voldemort."

This time, it was Snape who flinched, and Sirius turned appealingly to Remus. But Remus was slowly nodding in agreement. "They have a point. Severus has shown himself trustworthy in the Occlumency teaching."

Harry noticed the meaningful way the werewolf narrowed his eyes at the Potions Master, but to his relief, Sirius didn't. Neither Harry nor Remus could risk mentioning how the Occlumency lessons had started out this term, otherwise Sirius would never back down (there was also the possibility he'd go straight for Snape's throat.)

As for Sirius, he was making an obvious effort to conceal his reaction to seeing Remus _and_ Harry apparently siding with Snape—but not quite succeeding. His dark gray eyes traveled from Remus to Harry to glare darkly at Snape, then back to Remus, hopeful.

"We'll be working with Harry on wandless magic and basic Defense, Sirius," Remus pressed gently. "And there's no reason why Harry can't give us a full report of Occlumency right after each lesson."

Sirius scowled, dropping his gaze. "Fine," he muttered. "Fine. Have it your way, Snivellus. Now get out."

Harry winced, but Snape mercifully said nothing on his way out the parlor door. He did shoot Harry a rather intense look as Harry stepped toward Sirius. As soon as the door closed, Harry said quietly, "Sirius, can I ask you something?"

Taking a deep breath, Sirius forced a smile and said, "Sure."

"Could you...please...not call him that anymore?"

There, he'd done it. Sirius stared at him. "I..."

"I mean...not just the name, the whole...fight," Harry muttered, dropping his eyes. "Like Dumbledore wanted after the Triwizard Tournament."

He dared a glance at Sirius and managed not to wince this time; Sirius was staring at him as if he'd grown a second head. There was silence until, without stepping into Sirius's line of vision, Remus said delicately, "Your godson has made a request of you, Sirius."

Sirius turned sharply toward him, looking genuinely confused. But Remus held his gaze with a gentle calm, looking neither confrontational nor entreating (like Harry did) and after several long moments, Sirius dropped his eyes and turned away. "Okay, Harry. If it'll make you feel better. I'll leave the g—I'll leave him alone."

Harry's throat was very tight by now; it felt as though he were being pulled from several different directions. He managed to mutter, "Thanks," and Sirius and Remus both looked sharply at him.

Then Sirius gave a genuine smile and crossed the few steps between them to pull Harry into his arms. "I guess we've all got some adjusting to do, eh?"

With a shaky laugh, Harry nodded into his chest, and felt Remus patting them both on the shoulders. "Yes, we do. But we'll make it. You're here, you're together, and you can take anything."

Sirius laughed. "Right-o, then. What about that wandless magic?"

Harry stepped back gratefully. "I'm ready if you are. But let's call Ron and the others back. They wanted to learn it too."

"I'll fetch them," said Remus, and went to the door to shout unceremoniously down the hall. Harry and Sirius laughed, and the tension in the room dissolved.

* * *

 

"As Professor Dumbledore mentioned this morning," Remus told them when Hermione and the four youngest Weasleys had joined them, "the most basic wandless magic is very simple to master. This type of magic is often the first identifier of young wizards that doesn't require Ministry detection devices."

He had apparently taken Dumbledore's suggestion of "continuing his professorial duties" seriously—this lecture could easily have been taking place in his DADA classroom. But at the moment, his students were scattered around the parlor: Ron and Hermione on the sofa, the twins on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, Ginny in one armchair, and Sirius in another with Harry settled on the floor at his feet.

Remus went on, "The most basic form of wandless magic is the ability to move objects—a magical 'push' or 'pull', if you will. A little bit harder is levitation and any sort of complicated manuever, but it's all the same principle. Muggles call it telekinesis. I doubt any of you will have much trouble with it, but let's start from there."

What followed was a rather light-hearted afternoon of shoving books, feathers, paperweights, leftover Christmas crackers, and even the Christmas tree at one point around the room with sheer force of willpower. As everyone predicted, it didn't take Harry long, once he determined that you just had to "feel" the object in your mind.

"Most initial incidents of wandless magic are triggered by emotion," Remus told them. "The trick to using it effectively is to harness your emotional impulses—your desire to make the object do what you want it to do—and strengthen it enough in your mind to be effective without the emotion overpowering you."

"And no, Fred, blowing on your feather does not constitute wandless magic," added Sirius, cuffing one of the twins. Everyone laughed. "Try shelving a few books."

"It's not as hard as I was afraid it was going to be," Ron said to Harry. Then he dropped his book and sighed. "Dunno why I have to concentrate so hard!"

"Can you juggle, Ron?" Sirius asked him suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Didn't I see you juggling chess pieces last Christmas?"

"Er...yeah," said Ron, giving Harry a puzzled glance.

Sirius went for the chess set as the others watched curiously, and picked up a few random pieces (who shouted indignantly.) "Here. Give it a try. No, normally," he amended it when Ron tried to levitate the pieces wandlessly. "Go on."

With a dubious expression, Ron juggled the vigorously protesting pieces in the air, and said, "Okay, what am I doing?"

"Two things at once," Sirius informed him.

"What? OH!" Ron exclaimed—and dropped the chess pieces. Ginny giggled, and he glared at her before returning his attention to the books. "So...I was saying..." he said slowly to Harry as the first book began wobbling its way through the air toward the second-from-the-top shelf, "I thought...Hermione and me...could...root around...the library while...you're..." (the book eased its way into place and a second began to rise) "in Occlumency tonight. There might be...some stuff there...for us to learn about Defense techniques. Advanced stuff, you know?" he finished with more assurance as the books began to move more smoothly.

Harry nodded absently as he magically put the fire out in the hearth, then re-lit it, then put it out, then wandlessly levitated a candle down to light it. "Good idea. We may as well make the moooost—watch your hair, Ginny!—of the holidays."

They graduated in a single afternoon to a raucous game of "Catch" with some rubber balls—no hands allowed. By the time Remus decided it was time for a break to have some tea and catch their breath, Fred and George declared they were sufficiently prepared for Death Eaters throwing rocks at them. Hermione's parents came in to have tea with them, and watched Ron teaching Hermione to juggle (by hand, although she proved quicker than he at wandless, handless juggling.)

Harry asked Remus during tea, "What causes the more...complicated wandless magic? How is that different from telekinesis?"

"They're essentially the same. Magic is a...well...a force that can affect the environment around it in many ways. Just as a mental 'push' can move a book without a wand or snuff out a candle, your surroundings respond to the surge of magic triggered by your emotions," Remus said, sitting back in his armchair and, for once, looking very hale and relaxed.

Harry went back to sit at Sirius's feet again, shaking his head. "I still don't understand."

"Think of your own magic as water," said Sirius, ruffling his hair from behind. "Simple wandless magic, like telekinesis, is just focusing its flow to move something. A surge of emotional magic..."

"It's like bringing it to a boil!" said Hermione, comprehending. "Raising the temperature so it boils and affects the environment around it. The hotter your emotions..."

"Exactly," said Remus. "The more violent the surge of magic. You've heard of 'flash boiling?' Or a pressure cooker?" He smiled at the baffled expressions on the faces of the pureblooded wizards in the room, but Harry nodded.

"I think I get it. Water that boils really suddenly can make things explode."

"Like Mount St. Helens," mused Hermione, and everyone in the room looked at her. "Never mind."

Remus chuckled and shook his head. "Well. I think that's enough wandless magic for one day. Shall we work on some more mainstream Defense topics? I thought we could see about honing your group-working skills."

"Absolutely!"

* * *

 

By the time dinner was called, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins had managed to thoroughly wreck the upstairs drawing room even after all the furniture had been shrunken and removed. It took ten minutes to repair the various hex-marks and curse-scorches from the walls. Fred suggested that they try some group work in the entrance hall in front of Mrs. Black's portrait to see if they could inflict a few well-placed jinxes on _that_ , but Sirius insisted on holding off until they could find a way to Silence her first.

"Otherwise, she'll never shut up again!" (Sirius had been quite irked to learn that the Order still hadn't managed to get the offending portrait down in the months since his death.)

Over dinner, Hermione couldn't restrain herself any longer and delicately asked Sirius, "I was wondering if we could have a look around the downstairs library. We might find some books in your fam—er, the Blacks'—I mean, some books there useful for Defense."

Ron snorted softly into his butterbeer, and Sirius grinned easily. "And even if they're not useful, you'd read them anyway." Hermione blushed, but Sirius glanced at Remus. "I assume they've already been perused for anything especially dangerous?"

"At Molly's insistence," Remus replied with a knowing smile.

Sirius shrugged. "In that case, why not? You might well find something helpful." His eyes glinted with mischievous spite, and he added, "What dear old mum would think of the Order browsing through the Black family library. Borrow anything you like—hell, you can probably keep it."

Hermione looked as if Christmas had come all over again. "Oh, thank you, Sirius!"

Ron shook his head. "She's been wanting to get in there since we got home, but then after you got back we thought we should wait till we asked first."

Sirius gave them a dismissive wave of his hand before helping himself to steak and kidney pie. "It's all yours."

The remainder of Hermione's dinner went down even faster than when she'd been in the thick of S.P.E.W., and she fled the dining room for the library as soon as was decently possible. Harry and Ron joined her after finishing their own dinner (with the obligatory second helping pressed on Harry by Mrs. Weasley.)

When they got to the library, Harry understood at once why it was Hermione's dream come true. It was a VERY large room on the ground floor toward the back of the house—in a section that still hadn't been deemed safe to enter last Christmas. Now, whatever haunts or curses had been inhabiting the room were expelled, and the decades of grime cleared away to reveal handsome, dark-red polished wooden shelves lining every wall—and every shelf covered in books.

And from what Harry could tell, the great stacks of old tomes that made up the Black family library bore a stronger resemblance to the Restricted Section than the Reading Room of the Hogwarts library.

Hermione had already assembled a small stack of volumes on one of the tables, and turned gleefully to Ron and Harry when they entered. "This place is a gold mine! Come give me a hand!"

Although he was by no means as enthusiastic about books as Hermione, Harry was curious about what sort of material he might find of use, and went to examine the titles Hermione had already collected while Ron joined her in inspecting the shelves.

**_Fire With Fire: Dark Counters for Dark Curses  
_ ** **_Blood Spells for Offense and Defense  
_ ** **_Deadly Potions and Poisons  
_ ** **_The Methods of the Masters: Favorite Spells of the Deadliest Warlocks and Wizards in History  
_ ** **_Ancient Magicks of Africa and Asia  
_ ** **_The Perils and Power of Blood Magic  
_ ** ****_The Magics of Emotion and Instinct_

Harry picked up the last one, noticing the thick layers of dust in the cloth of the cover and the smooth, if yellowed, pages. The Magics of Emotion and Instinct obviously was not one of the Black family's most-thumbed books, although every one about blood magic appeared to have been handled by many readers. Moving further down the shelves, Ron had already found some volumes that looked interesting, and Hermione, standing on a chair, paused to look at Harry. "Thought you'd be interested in that one."

"Mm-hmm," Harry muttered, cautiously turning pages. (He'd never forgotten the book that had screamed at him in the Restricted Section his first year.)

"As pleasing as it is to see you occupying your holidays with study, Mr. Potter, it will have to wait," said a voice from the doorway.

Harry jumped and dropped the book. Snape raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the clock in surprise. It was seven. "Sorry," he said to his friends. "Occlumency."

He followed Snape to the basement kitchen. The Potions Master seemed distracted as he moved the table aside with a wave of his wand. "Have you been clearing your mind, Potter?" he muttered.

Harry shrugged; the answer to that question ought to be obvious, considering the vision. "I guess not as much as I should have, these past few days." Snape glanced at him and grunted, but offered no remark on the subject. Watching him with a frown, Harry asked carefully, "Is something wrong?"

At last, Snape seemed to look at him fully. "I assume that is a rhetorical question, Mr. Potter. We are in the middle of a war."

 _We have been for over a year now,_ Harry thought. Something more than that was bothering Snape. "They found the bodies of the Hendersons, didn't they?"

He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but the sharp look Snape gave him confirmed it. To his surprise, instead of summarily beginning the lesson, Snape folded his arms and walked stiffly away. More surprising still was the fact that Snape answered him. "They did." Then he shook himself out of the mood and turned to face Harry. "Clear your mind."

Harry braced himself.

_"Legilimens!"_

He hadn't centered properly, and Snape went straight for the vision. Wesley Henderson writhed on the floor under Draco Malfoy's Cruciatus as his parents screamed...then Harry managed to drag his thoughts away from the memory, trying to find some innocuous place to hide...he was sitting on the couch with Sirius, hugging him, deliriously happy to have him back...but then Sirius was falling, his body arching backwards into the veil... _aah_...he struggled to focus on Snape and raise his wand...he was out of practice...Dumbledore was tapping his Pensieve and Professor Trelawney's shimmering form rose out of the liquid: _"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES..."_

This time it was Snape who recoiled, and Harry was yanked along the connection with him. His mind teemed with memories that were not his own...not exactly, anyway. A greasy-haired man watched a green-eyed boy sitting close to his godfather...a blond boy used the thought of a classmate he hated to torture another classmate...a greasy-haired teenager was able to curse a helpless victim at the thought of...

"POTTER!"

Harry stumbled back, dazed. "Sorry, I didn't..." then it clunked into place, what he had seen. Something very cold settled in his insides.

Snape fixed him with a piercing black gaze. "What's the matter, Potter?" he asked, his voice deathly soft. "You seem...surprised."

Harry opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Snape took a step forward, practically radiating menace. Harry was shaking from head to toe, and he almost stepped back.

Almost.

"You don't scare me," he said.

"Your quavering voice suggests otherwise," Snape sneered, and Harry felt, amid the inner shivers and nausea, the familiar spark of anger.

It was like a rudder for his ragged emotions, and he latched onto it. His chin went up, and he hissed, "I said I wasn't afraid of you. Not that you didn't make me _sick!_ "

Snape bared his teeth and surged forward. Harry managed not to flinch. "You think you have the right to judge _me_ , Potter?"

"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO THINK!" Harry shouted. "When you bloody thought about my dad so you could torture people! You and Malfoy—"

"Do not mention him!" Snape bellowed.

"Why, so you can pretend he's not in it up to his eyeballs?" Harry demanded, wrenching away to put the table between them.

Snape was white-faced as he growled, "Draco Malfoy had no choice about joining the Dark Lord."

"He looked pretty enthusiastic to me," said Harry.

"SHUT UP!" Snape roared. "If you want these lessons to continue, boy, you will NOT speak of Draco Malfoy again!"

Harry fell silent, but stared at him. Snape was trembling, partly with rage, but also... "You care about him," he realized out loud.

Breathing heavily, Snape straightened and started to turn away. "The subject is closed, Potter."

Feeling a little daring, Harry advanced around the table. "Why doesn't he have a choice?"

Snape glared furiously over his shoulder. "What does it matter to you?"

"It obviously matters to you," Harry pointed out (mostly because he didn't know the answer to the question.)

He was nothing short of astonished when Snape answered his previous question. Quietly, with his back turned to Harry, the Potions Master said, "You know as well as I what Draco Malfoy has been groomed to be since his earliest childhood. He was never offered a choice, nor given any hint that there even was one."

Harry asked, "So why didn't _you_ give him a choice?"

Snape turned and stared at him. "Me?"

Folding his arms, Harry pointed out, "You walked away from Voldemort, and something tells me your family wouldn't have been thrilled either. How did you do it?"

"That's none of your concern," Snape said curtly.

Harry shrugged. "No, I guess not. But if he matters that much to you, why not try and help him?"

Snape made a disgusted noise. "Your 'saving people thing' is showing, Potter."

It was a tidy diversion that almost succeeded. Harry hauled a chair away from the table and dropped into it. Wearily, he muttered, "I just want all this to stop. I asked Sirius to stop." He forced himself to look at Snape and prayed that just once, just this once, he'd be reasonable. "If you want to keep hating my father, fine. My father's not here. He's not the one who has to fight this bloody war. We do."

Narrowing his eyes at Harry, Snape murmured, "'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord...'"

Harry nodded wearily. "I thought you already knew it was me."

"I have heard the altered version that Dumbledore prepared for the Dark Lord last summer," Snape said. "It would not be wise to divulge the rest, Potter, or even to hint at it to anyone."

"Oh, come on, Dumbledore said you could figure it out," Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead. His scar hurt.

"This power the Dark Lord knows not?"

"I've no idea what it is," Harry said. He looked at Snape miserably. "Do you?"

"I have my theories. But then I do not know the full wording of the prophecy."

"'Either must die at the hand of the other,'" Harry finished, the words tumbling out only partly against his will. For some reason, an ache inside seemed to lesson at telling Snape this. "'For neither can live while the other survives.' It means, either I figure out how to fight him—and win—or I die. He kills me, and...we lose." He let his head sink onto his arms.

Snape was silent for several moments. "Have you told Black and Lupin this?"

Harry shook his head. "They're worried enough about the war and me as it is. If they knew the prophecy..." he shook his head again. "I thought about telling one of them...or both...but I can't. I just can't. The only people I've told are Ron and Hermione."

"Is that a necessarily wise choice?"

"I had to tell someone. And if it were one of them, I'd want to know. Even without the prophecy, they'd...stay with me," he explained clumsily. "They said so." He sighed. "Maybe it wasn't very smart, but...I...had to." He laughed bitterly. "Or maybe it's just so they'd put up with more from me than if they didn't know it."

Snape was slowly pacing on the other side of the table, but then he paused and looked hard at Harry. "Has it occurred to you, Potter, that this 'power the Dark Lord knows not' may be of the more base variety than a first glance implies?" Harry blinked, and Snape asked, "Do you not recall your possession in the Great Hall?"

"Yes," Harry said coldly. He still had a hard time forgiving Snape for putting Ron and Hermione in harm's way.

"Then you know how you were able to push the Dark Lord from your mind," Snape continued, unphased by the flash of anger in Harry's eyes. "Unless there is some magical talent that has yet to surface—and all the signs suggest not—your greatest strength appears to be your assorted allies, and their regard for you."

Harry sat up in confusion. "What?"

"You have surrounded yourself, Potter, with an assortment of talented witches and wizards, all exceedingly devoted to you. And, it appears, you to them. Your concern for them gave you the strength to prevent the Dark Lord from fully possessing you, and they pulled wands on the Minister of Magic on your behalf. Do not overlook the significance of that. The Dark Lord has no such power."

"What about the Death Eaters?" Harry pointed out.

Snape actually laughed. But it was a bitter, hard laugh, full of scorn, and Harry actually cringed a little. "You had almost managed to convince me you weren't a fool. Tell me, Potter, from what you have heard and seen of the Dark Lord's followers, do you truly believe that a single one of them serves the Dark Lord out of _love_?"

It didn't take much deep thought to understand what Snape meant. "I don't understand," he mused. He didn't mean the love part, and Snape knew it, so he went on, "How could it possibly seem worth it?"

Snape snorted. "If you ever do truly comprehend it, Potter, that is when I will grow worried." Harry actually smiled. It was a good point. "How long have you known the prophecy?"

"Since the night Sirius...since the night of the Department of Mysteries. Dumbledore told me." Glancing up, Harry saw Snape looking surprised. "What?"

"We're fortunate the Dark Lord didn't suspect Dumbledore of divulging it, or he most likely would have wrung it from you the night you were taken."

Harry bristled. "He tortured me for hours, and I didn't tell him."

Eyeing him, Snape asked, "Why not?"

In disbelief, Harry replied, "What was to tell? 'Oh, by the way, Voldemort, you can win the war all right, all you have to do is kill me!' That'd finish us all real quick, wouldn't it?"

"You didn't wish for death to end the torture?"

Harry glanced at Snape and shrugged. "Yeah, but I figured he'd get around to that sooner or later." He shrugged again to disguise a shudder. He still didn't like remembering that night. There was a lot he didn't like remembering.

And even more in the future that he didn't want to think about.

Snape was silently watching him, and when he spoke again, his words seemed to cut right through Harry. "You're frightened."

It wasn't mockery or even surprise. Just an observation.

Without looking up, Harry nodded.

"For your friends or for yourself?"

Harry shot him a withering glance. "Is that a 'rhetorical question', sir?" he mocked.

"You know what I mean." Snape leaned sideways against the table, folding his arms as he regarded Harry. "Has your Gryffindor heroic protective instinct spared no thought for your own life?"

"Of course it has!" Harry exclaimed, sitting back in his chair. "I don't _want_ to die!"

"Then why have you conducted yourself for the past six months like one facing his own execution?" Harry stared, and Snape went on, "I am not unobservant, Potter. You cannot fight this war if you already expect to fail."

It was Harry's turn to get up and pace. "I _want_ to win," he muttered. "I just...don't know how. I don't know how to beat him."

"You're not expected to know yet."

"So what does that mean?" Harry demanded, facing Snape in frustration. "That we just send me back to school for wand-waving lessons until I finish at Hogwarts? In the mean time, Voldemort gets stronger and recruits more Death Eaters, very possibly finds out the prophecy, and kills off who-knows-how-many people—"

"Potter!" Snape grabbed his arm. "However grave the situation, I can assure you hysteria will only worsen it."

"I'm not hysterical," Harry grumbled.

He was answered by a faint snort. "As to your question, the steps being taken at this moment are meant to prepare you. The prophecy has led you to labor under the illusion that you must fight this battle entirely alone."

"Yeah, I know, everyone's helping," sighed Harry, dropping back into his chair. "But in the end, it has to be me, doesn't it?"

From behind him, Snape spoke quietly. "In the end, Mr. Potter, we will all be fighting. Do you believe your friends would permit you to face him alone?" Harry turned and looked at him, and the Potions Master went on, "Or Black and Lupin?"

Harry studied his feet. "How am I supposed to fight if I'm worrying about them?"

"You are not responsible for the lives of everyone on our side, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you will find your concentration improving."

"That's easy for you to say!" Harry protested. "I'm talking about people I care about!"

"Then trust them to protect themselves," Snape told him. "You will find as your training progresses that a crucial factor in winning this war shall be the ability to function as both part of a group and an individual."

Harry frowned at him. "Then why did you use Ron and Hermione that way? When I was possessed, Voldemort could've realized they're my weakness."

"Again, you miss the point. That it was their presence that enabled you to fight off the Dark Lord's invasion. That is strength, not weakness."

Harry blinked. _That is strength...they're...my strength._ Snape was watching him. Harry met his eyes and slowly nodded, understanding at last what he was getting at.

Snape abruptly stood. "That is enough for tonight. Concentrate on clearing your mind, and we will resume at the same time tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," Harry said distractedly, and got up, still mulling over what Snape had told him. But when he reached the door, something prickled in the back of his mind, and he glanced back. "Thank you."

Snape simply nodded.

* * *

 

No sooner had Potter's footsteps died away on the stairs than Severus marched out of the kitchen and went up to the main parlor. Several Weasleys and the elder Grangers were there as well, so Snape carefully tempered his tone and said, "Black. Lupin." The pair in question glanced at him, and he jerked his head at the door.

Black narrowed his eyes, but Lupin nodded and gently nudged the more obstinate Marauder to join him with Snape in the hall. "Something the matter, Severus?"

"I require a word in private," he said curtly, forcing a civil tone. For a moment, he thought Black was going to be contrary, but after a moment, Potter's godfather nodded coldly and led the way to one of the other drawing rooms.

"What seems to be the trouble?" Black drawled once they'd closed the doors.

Potter had mentioned asking Black for a cessation of hostilities, and Severus supposed Black's behavior was somewhat more restrained, but he felt his own attitude at the moment was well-justified. On the other hand, it seemed fate's sense of irony was determined to force him into concert with Sirius Black and Harry Potter again and again—and that the entire war would ride upon their ability to work together. _And not a single one of us is especially known for his deference or flexibility._ In all honesty, Potter so far had been the most reasonable of the three of them.

Making certain the doors were well-sealed, he demanded furiously, "What the _devil_ have you two been doing, sitting about telling war stories?" Black bristled, but Severus plowed on, "I'd have thought you possessed sufficient concern for your godson to prepare him psychologically for this war—since evidently Lupin's teaching in that area has been completely ineffective."

Black had gone dead white and looked about to lunge, but Lupin hauled him back by the scruff of the neck, his eyes flashing. "What are you talking about?" he said sharply.

"I'm _talking_ ," Severus snapped, "about the boy's disturbingly strong belief that he will not survive the war."

"What?" Black breathed, and Severus rolled his eyes in disgust.

Lupin was quicker. "I know Harry's scared, and Ron and Hermione have been very worried about him, but surely..."

"I'm in a position to know," Snape said curtly. "Potter is convinced he is going to die."

Black sat down heavily in a chair, rubbing his forehead. "I thought he looked like hell when I returned—more than just convalescent. Why didn't he talk to us?"

"I believe it's your responsibility to see to that, Black," Severus pointed out. Black glared at him, but it was a distracted glare. "And it is also your responsibility to remind the boy that he is not merely a walking weapon. We cannot win this war if Potter is paralyzed with terror."

"And here I thought your concern was for him," Black grumbled. "And Harry isn't a weapon in this war _at all_ , I don't care what you _or_ Dumbledore have to say about it."

"Oh, wake up, Black!" Severus snapped. "Potter is a pivotal figure in this war, whether you and I like it or not!" At Black's growl of denial, he added, "The Dark Lord thinks he is, and therefore he is. He is a target at the very least, and must therefore be prepared to defend himself. And he will always be a target until the Dark Lord and his followers are gone."

Black subsided, his sunken eyes wide with dismay, but he was no longer looking at Snape. At length, he sighed, "You know something we don't?"

Without rancor (for once) Severus replied, "I know many things you don't."

Scrubbing at his eyes, Black said, "I guess we all have a lot of work to do, then. Harry can't face this alone."

Lupin walked over to put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll do whatever we must, Sirius. And he won't be alone; he has you. You're a good godfather." Black looked doubtful, but he smiled. "He has us all."

"I guess I ought to talk to him. Let him know I'm here," Black murmured and shuffled to the door, seemingly no longer aware of Severus.

Lupin started to follow, then paused beside Snape, a twinkle of old mischief in his eyes. Snape frowned, and the werewolf said cordially, "Thank you, Severus, for bringing this to our attention. It's important, and I certainly appreciate your...outrage on Harry's behalf."

Severus realized how this must look, and had to fight the urge to swear loudly as Lupin slipped out of the drawing room with a stifled chuckle. So he swore silently as he stalked out of the room and down to the library to help himself to the Black family's collection of Potions books.

A few hours later, he was brought up short outside another unused parlor by the sight of Black and Lupin hovering outside the open door with positively saccharine grins on their faces. Black slipped inside, and Severus strolled casually by, but paused in spite of himself when he caught sight of the dimly-lit interior.

Potter was there, upon the sofa with one of the books liberated from the library in his lap and feet tucked under him. All but one of the candles in the room had gone out, and the remaining one flickered feebly, reflecting in the boy's glasses as he rested his head on his arm. The boy had fallen sound asleep, with the book in danger of sliding off his lap.

As Snape and Lupin watched, Black knelt in the flickering candlelight and lightly slipped the volume from his godson's hands. Predictably, Potter stirred and blinked sleepily at him, then smiled. Black ruffled his hair. "All right, you, that's quite enough constant vigilance for one day. To bed with you."

The boy grinned back and mock saluted before sliding off the sofa. "Yessir," he replied.

Black gave his godson a one-armed embrace. "We'll talk in the morning, 'kay?" Potter nodded and shuffled off to bed, giving Lupin a drowsy wave goodnight as he passed.

Severus had slipped into the shadows behind the werewolf. Against his will, the memory of Potter's earlier words slipped into his head. _"So why didn't YOU give him a choice?"_

_Because there was never any chance he would listen._

Wasn't there? Black could probably persuade Potter of just about anything; then again, Potter adored Black. (And Black adored Potter.) Draco...well, Severus and Draco had been close once.

_I could never win Draco over from Lucius's influence now._

Couldn't he?

_"If he matters that much to you, why not try and help him?"_

If Draco mattered that much...

_Bloody good question._


	34. The Mystic Kettle of Nackledirk

Even though the days were consumed by increasingly rigorous Defense training and the evenings consumed with studying Defense books (or in Harry's case, Occlumency) no one was particularly anxious to return to Hogwarts. In the two years they'd been using it, Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place had gone from the proverbial haunted mansion to empty house of memories to the one remaining sanctuary in a world flying apart at the seams. It was now the one place where everyone Harry cared about could safely be together.

He was curled up on the sofa in the upstairs parlor (the downstairs parlor was too noisy) reading The Magics of Emotion and Instinct when Ginny found him. "Honestly, Harry, you're as bad as Hermione these days."

Harry shrugged, resting the book on his knees. Ginny sat down next to him and picked it up. "I never know when I'm going to need this stuff," he told her.

"You're certainly good at the wandless magic," she mused, carefully turning pages. "Did you hear about George using it?"

"I saw him once," said Harry. "During the Hogsmeade attack. He set off a crate of fireworks with his bare hand. His eyes...I wonder if I look like that when I blast something."

Ginny grimaced. "He's certainly been a bit emotional since Fred was hurt. I guess that makes sense. It's really a double-edged sword, isn't it?" She handed the book back to him, and Harry studied the cover.

"I was hoping I could learn to control it better—harness it, I guess. Maybe that could be something I could use that Voldemort and the others wouldn't expect. Assuming I'm more emotional than Voldemort," he sighed.

"He doesn't feel very many emotions, just power-lust and malice," Ginny said coldly, in a voice of authority. "In that at least, you've got an advantage."

Harry sighed. "I need every one I can get."

Ginny raised her eyebrows at him. "We all do. You're not fighting him alone, Harry. I know people in the _Prophet_ are speculating about you being some kind of walking weapon, but you're not."

With a droll smile, Harry murmured, "Yeah, Sirius and Remus keep reminding me."

"You do believe them, don't you?"

"I guess," he said. "Even Snape agrees with them. I just..."

"What?"

"I wonder if maybe they're the ones letting their emotions get in the way. Maybe a walking weapon's what I'm supposed to be."

Ginny sat up so quickly that the sofa creaked loudly. "It is _not!_ You're not just some _thing_ being sent against Voldemort. You're a person with...with...feelings and—and—rights, and—things, and—people who love you!"

Sitting back from the force of her words, Harry hastily raised his hands. "Okay, okay! I'm not a weapon! Got it!" Ginny glared at him, so he relented and said, "Really. I know I'm not like that, but...I still have to fight him."

"Is that what the prophecy said?" Ginny asked. He nodded. "You know, you still won't be alone. If you're the one destined to go up against him, that's all the more reason for us to fight with you. Voldemort's got all his Death Eaters, after all."

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "Are you saying you want to be my Death Eater?" She cuffed him, but they both grinned. "Snape did say something about that. How having friends was an advantage for me."

"After all we've been through, you're far more than a friend," Ginny told him sincerely. "You're family. You, Hermione, Sirius, and Remus, and my brothers and my parents."

She reached out and took his hand and held it. Harry stared down at his hand gripping her smaller one, and thought, _Emotional magic...love...the Pillar of Storgé...the power the Dark Lord knows not. Maybe Snape's right._

He let go absently and opened the book again, but Ginny stayed in the parlor, sitting next to him so she could read along over his shoulder. They were mostly quiet other than to point out interesting or potentially helpful things, and time rolled by without notice. Harry didn't really notice that Ginny was sitting right against his side, and didn't really care anyway—it was rather comfortable, and felt perfectly normal.

So he had no idea what the matter was when Remus came to call them for another lesson and shot Harry a very odd look as they went out the parlor door.

* * *

 

Harry had thought last year's departure for Hogwarts was bad, but he bloody near lost it saying goodbye to Sirius and the others who were staying behind. Fortunately, no one noticed because Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were a bit on the emotional side as well.

Hermione and her parents seemed to have the worst time, all visibly holding back tears, and they hugged their daughter quickly and fiercely before hurriedly departing the entrance hall. Only then did Hermione let a few tears fall as she fingered the charm bracelet her parents had given her for Christmas, adorned with little silver cauldrons, broomsticks, and pointed hats. Ron's Pearl Pea string was just visible under the collar of her school uniform. This time, Sirius didn't threaten to hex her when she sniffled into his shoulder while hugging him goodbye.

Harry was determined that he would get a chance to do this year what he hadn't managed to do last year. When it was obvious that all the hustle and bustle of the impending departure for the Knight Bus was not going to give him a quiet minute with Sirius, he resolved to make one himself and unceremoniously grabbed Sirius by the arm and pulled him away from the ruckus.

Fortunately, Sirius seemed to realize what was up, and needed no additional urging to slip away with Harry down the stairs to the basement kitchen. "All right, Harry?" he asked softly.

Swallowing hard, Harry said quickly, "Ijustwantedtosaybecareful. I mean...just don't...you know, get hurt, or...caught."

Sirius gripped his shoulders. "I'll keep my nose clean, don't worry. I have told Dumbledore that I'm not letting him lock me up here again, and he's agreed, but I'll watch my back. I promise." He gave Harry's shoulders a squeeze, then pulled him into his arms. "You take care of yourself too, hear me? No more getting captured."

There were footsteps at the top of the stairs. "I will," Harry muttered into his godfather's shoulder, trying to memorize the feeling of being hugged by Sirius—the Sirius who was alive here and now, in spite of all that had happened.

Then someone called their names, and Harry and Sirius stepped quickly apart. "Come on. Better hurry," Sirius muttered and steered Harry by the shoulder back out to the others.

The last farewells to Hermione's parents and the elder Weasleys were not nearly so painful, then Tonks led the way out onto the steps. Remus and Harry brought up the rear, and Harry couldn't help looking back over his shoulder at Sirius in the entrance hall until the front door finally closed and Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place vanished from sight.

* * *

 

The first couple of days at Hogwarts in January brought the new experience of homesickness to Harry—an emotion he'd prefer to never have felt even if he relished the chance to have a home outside school—but once term started, he was thankfully too busy to miss Sirius too much.

There was quite a bit going on at Hogwarts. The twins finally got around to taking their N.E.W.T.s and spent much of the month of January staggering around looking tense and aggravated. They did their studying and preparing at Hogwarts, then went to the Ministry for each exam. Hermione peppered them with questions until they threatened her with several rounds of Wheeze experimenting to make her stop urging them to relive those nightmarish tests.

Speaking of nightmarish tests, in Specialized Defense, Professor Smythe-Wellington announced that throughout the spring term the students would be preparing their preliminary applications to the Magical Law Enforcement programs.

"Most careers in Magical Law Enforcement follow a standardized application process here at Hogwarts to even be considered for admission," she told them in class. "The majority of the weight in the application centers upon two things: your application essay, and the evaluation/recommendation of your principal Defense professor—namely myself."

Harry felt his heart sink to the floor, and judging by the stifled moans around the room, his wasn't the only one. Ernie MacMillian even went so far as to raise his hand and ask, "But ma'am, isn't Professor Lupin the main Defense professor here at Hogwarts?"

Smythe-Wellington smiled thinly. "Professor Lupin is the general Defense professor for Hogwarts, but _your_ principal teacher in matters of Defense relating to your chosen career path is me. Therefore, yes, ladies and gentlemen, at the end of this year, _I_ will be submitting the primary evaluation of your capabilities for a career in Magical Law Enforcement. Evaluations and recommendations will be submitted by all your professors, but it is mine which will carry the most weight."

" _Buggeration,_ " someone muttered from somewhere behind Harry. Harry heartily agreed.

* * *

 

Before returning to Hogwarts, Harry had talked to Remus, Sirius, and Snape at length about how much of their extra training should also be taught to the D.A. "Wouldn't it be a good idea for all of them to learn wandless magic?"

"Perhaps," Snape had said, "but there is also the question of whether it is advisable for them to be aware that _you_ are learning wandless magic, Potter."

Remus had nodded. "I have to agree. You've had secrets spilled by members before, and now the D.A. is an open club. We'll do our best to give them good Defense practice, but it might be best if you keep some of the more advanced training to yourself."

"Maybe Hermione could come up with some way to make sure they're trustworthy again," Ron had suggested.

"But that would only alert you after the fact," Snape had pointed out (though Harry was certain he'd seen the Potions Master smirking.) "It would not prevent the damage being done."

"After all, there's plenty of regular Defense for the main body of the D.A. to learn that would be harmless for outsiders to know about," Sirius had pointed out.

So Harry concentrated on working everyone in the D.A. with the group exercises they'd been learning the previous term, first in pairs, then larger groups. He and Ron, when they weren't discussing Quidditch strategies, spent several hours devising different ways the D.A. members could learn to work together and back each other up.

One of the wildest sessions so far involved one of those exercises:

"Okay, everyone, we're going to do something a little different today," said Harry. "This is something Ron and I cooked up so we can learn to back each other in a sort of...I guess...well...a battle."

"Cool!" said Seamus Finnegan, rubbing his hands together. "Do we get to really fight each other, then?"

"Well, sort of," Harry said sheepishly. "It's a bit complicated. What's going to happen is we're going to be split into two teams, then all the team members will be in pairs. You've got to work with your partner—just your partner—to keep yourselves 'alive.'"

By now, everyone was stirring with excitement. Ron added, "But here's the kicker: no one will be able to speak to anyone but their partner!"

"Eh?" said Ernie MacMillian in confusion.

The twins, having just finished their last N.E.W.T. with much rejoicing, stepped to the front. "We've designed these special earplugs. You can only hear your partner. The object, Harry and Ron inform us, is for you to back up your partner and tune out distractions," said Fred, holding up the little green plugs. "You won't be able to hear your other teammates, or what curses are being shouted at you. Just like it might be in a big, chaotic fight."

"Like the one in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade," mused someone.

George pulled a face. "Exactly. Who knows when we may need to do this for real. But you've got to _listen_ for your partner. The earplugs blur out the other voices so you can't hear or distinguish them, but if you're not careful, your partner'll get lost in the chaos. The winning team is the one who doesn't lose all its members to Kills or Captures."

"What are we waiting for?" demanded Terry Boot. "Let's do it!"

"Right!" Harry aimed his wand at a chalkboard on the wall and said, _"Effingiugum!"_ The names appeared, organized into the two teams and smaller pairings, and the D.A. crowded around it.

Once they were all paired off and issued red or blue armbands, Harry continued, "You get to use three hexes: Stinger, Stunner, and Body Bind. Stinger is a wound, Stunner is fatal, Body Bind means capture—which is pretty much the same as dead. Three Stings, and you're dead. All shields and blocks are legal." He concentrated on the group's need for a wider practice space and a suitable setting, and the room expanded at once, causing many of the combatants to groan dizzily. The now-empty floor softened to a mat, and fog rolled in from the walls.

"Excellent," chuckled someone.

"Earplugs in!" Harry ordered. His partner, Hannah Abbot, moved closer to him. "Ready...three...two...one...GO!"

Hannah launched off a hex at Anthony Goldstein, and Harry conjured a Double Shield around them as they sprinted into the fog. Soon the Room of Requirement was a chaotic mob of students, stumbling around through the haze wildly hexing each other and trying to shout instructions and acknowledgments to their partners.

"On your left, Harry!" Hannah shrieked, aiming a Stunner at Ron, who dodged it and vanished with Terry Boot at his heels.

Harry raised a Reflecting Shield for Hannah when she didn't see Neville aiming a Body Bind at her back, then managed to Sting Ernie MacMillian. Hermione and Susan Bones dashed by, pursued by Cho Chang and Fred, then Harry got Stung by George.

"Cover me!" he hissed at Hannah, and heard her incanting a Shield as he launched a Stunner back at George. George ducked, returned fire, the hex bounced off Hannah's shield, then the two of them let off jinxes at once, and George went down, Petrified.

"YES!" Hannah squealed, only to get Stung by George's partner, Eloise Midgen.

"I got her," Harry said, firing off three Stunners in a row (one of which managed to hit her), and heard Hannah raising a Shield that reflected two Body Binds from Anthony Goldstein and Lavender Brown.

Hannah took out Lavender and Padma Patil, then Harry saw Parvati appear with Andrew Kirke. _"Stupefy!"_ They chorused, one at Harry and one at Hannah.

Hannah shielded herself while Harry tried throwing up a Double Shield—but a Double was too weak to stop a Stunner, and he went down. Partnerless, Hannah panicked and got her third Stinging Hex a few moments later and joined him on the sidelines. "I guess we need some practice," she said wryly.

"Yeah. Or at least a quicker way of communicating," Harry mused, watching the battle carry on.

The Blue Team eventually triumphed when Padma Patil and Justin Finch-Fletchley were taken out, and Harry and Ron vanished away the "battleground" to be replaced by a floor full of cushions. "Well...that was useful, I think."

Neville was nodding. "You know, I think it was. In a real battle, there can't be any hesitating or misunderstandings, or you're dead."

Hermione made a face. "Really. There's barely even time to say what you're doing or what you want the other person to do. You just have to act."

"And hope the people on your side back you the way you need them to," added Ron dryly.

Everyone nodded. "Still," said Justin brightly. "It was fun!"

* * *

 

"You're not discouraged, are you?" Hermione asked Harry as they all headed down to dinner.

Harry shook his head. "No, I thought it would take us some practice. Can't expect to be perfect the first time."

"Yeah," added Ron. "After all, if learning combat skills was easy, we wouldn't have this honking great application process to get into the Auror program."

Everyone chuckled. "Right about that," Harry groaned as they came into the Great Hall.

There was a marked increase in the appetites of all members of the D.A. after that mad hour of running about and hexing each other. Ginny and Hermione got into a friendly argument with Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein about the connection between Smythe-Wellington's logic puzzles and strategic battle planning that lasted all through dessert with Harry and many of the other D.A. members listening with interest.

At the end of dinner, Professor Dumbledore tapped his goblet and rose. "I am pleased to see everyone off to an excellent start this new term, however, tonight I am proud to announce that two of our number have at last completed their education at Hogwarts."

Murmurs of surprise rippled through the Great Hall.

"As many of you know, Messrs. Fred and George Weasley have today completed the last of their N.E.W.T.s. Therefore, this is the last evening that we will be graced with their presence as Hogwarts students, and I thought there were those among you who would like to give these gentlemen a fond farewell as they depart."

The twins actually looked a little sheepish as Professor McGonagall abruptly beckoned them to the Head Table to shake her hand and the hands of Hagrid and the other Professors. Harry could hear the teachers whispering "Good luck," and "well done," and at least one, "be off with you!"

Then he started to applaud. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione joined in, as well as the D.A., then it seemed the entire student body rose to their feet, applauding and cheering wildly as the twins began to make their way back down. As they started to pass the tables, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Seamus Finnegan drew their wands and shot red sparks in a bright arch over the twins. Padma and Parvati Patil followed, and soon the twins found themselves in the midst of a grand send-off beneath a sparkling red arch.

Harry and one of the Ravenclaws did the same as the twins passed, pausing to embrace their remaining siblings, and they reached the end of the tables to a massive ovation.

Fred waved and yelled, "Thanks, you lot! Well, you all know where to find our products now, so you know who to come to if you ever need to make a little mischief!"

George was blowing kisses at random and shouted, "So long, friends! We're off to raise hell in the whole wizarding world!"

And thus Fred and George Weasley departed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry amid a chorus of cheers, laughter, and even a few tears. But everyone thought that this exit surpassed their first.

* * *

**_Dear Snuffles,_ **

 

**_How are you? I'm doing all right, but we all really miss you. Remus came to lecture in Professor McGonagall's class today about Animagi, and he said you had to register as soon as you became one, and Ron and I started laughing. Then McGonagall got on us, of course. I'm way behind on the Human Transfiguration practice because of when I was sick, but Ron and Hermione are trying to help me catch up. They really want to become Animagi._ **

**_Did the twins stop by to visit? They said they would. We miss them at the D.A. and Quidditch, but they had to leave eventually I guess. You should have seen the show we put on when they left. They probably told you about it._ **

**_Malfoy's_ ** **_looking a bit ragged lately. Well, tired at least. Probably sneaking out at night, even though Snape's giving him detention for a lot of stuff. Don't know that it's going to do any good, but at least if he's in detention he's not out torturing people._ **

**_Something really funny happened last night: Ron and Hermione got caught snogging! Ha ha ha! I was in the common room with Ginny reading about the you-know-what we've been working on since the hols, and Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil came running in saying Weasley and Granger were snogging in a broom closet! HA HA HA! You should have seen them when they got in, they wouldn't look at ANYONE! I wish the twins had been here for that (but it's probably lucky they weren't. Hermione hexed Lavender's lips off.)_ **

**_Anyway, there's nothing much else going on. Nothing weird or anything (you know what I mean.) How are you and all the visitors? We're starting to work on our application essays for Magical Law Enforcement, so Smythe-Wellington says we have to "examine our reasons for our chosen career." I can't think of a bloody thing!_ **

**_Write me back if you can (be careful.)_ **

**_Best,_ **

**_Harry._ **

* * *

 

"Oh, honestly, you two, there's no point in trying to hide your relationship now that the gossip chain's got it!" Ginny told Ron and Hermione. "Just go to Madam Puddifoot's or the Three Broomsticks and have your dates!"

The happy couple in question exchanged dubious glances. Harry put down his Defense book and backed Ginny. "Yeah, it won't be so bad. They'll get bored with the news pretty quick. Even the Slytherins laid off me and Cho after the first day."

"Mmmm," Hermione mused. Ron was cherry red, but looking speculative.

Ginny continued, "And I know how the gossips operate. Trust me, you're not the couple of the year. They'll whisper and nudge each other and say, 'Oy, look who's sharing a booth,' then they'll be off goggling at someone else."

Finally, Ron shrugged. "I guess so. Puddifoot's, then?" he asked Hermione, then abruptly realized these weren't the ideal circumstances for asking his girlfriend for a first date. Harry could see his reddened skin in the part of his hair.

Ginny caught his eye and cleared her throat. She and Harry quickly got to their feet and departed on a mutual unspoken decision to take their self-imposed homework to the library. They managed to wait until they were out the portrait hole and halfway down the stairs before bursting into laughter. Ginny poked him as they walked and mused, "I wonder if we could persuade Dean or Seamus to send a singing dwarf to serenade them at Puddifoot's?"

That had them laughing all the way to the library, where they found Luna Lovegood studying for her O.W.L.s at an empty table. "Hi, Luna," Harry said.

She raised her wide eyes from her textbook and smiled vacantly. "You're in a good mood. I guess Lord Voldemort hasn't possessed you in awhile."

"Er, no," Harry replied, as Ginny winced.

"How come you're not in Hogsmeade?" Ginny asked hastily.

"Studying. Why aren't you?" Luna tilted her head as she looked from Ginny to Harry, who still wasn't allowed to go.

Ginny shrugged. "I need to study too. And Ron and Hermione would want me to go with them if I went. In denial, those two."

Luna nodded solemnly. "Some people never want to admit they've been dipping into the Kettle of Nackledirk."

Harry blinked. So did Ginny. "What?"

"The Kettle of Nackledirk. Nackledirk was the wizard who invented Love Potions," Luna said.

"What are you talking about?" Harry began. "The wizard who invented Love Potions was Augie Amorous—"

Luna shook her head and said matter-of-factly, "Oh, he's credited, but Nackledirk was first. He just didn't get the official credit because his Love Potion was too realistic. No one could distinuish it from real love."

Ginny caught Harry's eye and grinned, and he shrugged inwardly. "Whatever you say, Luna." He opened his Specialized Defense book.

"Any luck?" Ginny asked him.

"Luck with what?" said Luna.

"My essay," Harry muttered, "for the Auror Program. I have to say why I want to be an Auror."

"You don't know why?" Luna asked.

Harry mulled over the list of Auror's duties and shook his head. "Not really. Not enough to write an essay about, apparently." He shoved the book away in disgust. "I know it is what I want, and when I think about doing it, it makes sense...just when it comes down to saying _why_ , I can't."

"Because you're Harry Potter?" Luna offered, studying the tip of her quill.

" _That_ is _not_ a good reason," Harry said firmly. "There has to be another. From all Smythe-Wellington says about not letting your emotions affect your judgment, I get the feeling that writing 'a dark wizard killed my parents and I want to off as many of them as I can' won't go over very well."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Good point, I guess. Well...oh, honestly, come on, there must be something." She shoved her own book away and pulled his toward her, drumming her fingers on the cover. "Okay. When Mum's trying to figure out something complicated, she always says, 'go back to basics.'"

"Basics. Right. The most basic reason why I want to be an Auror," Harry murmured, rubbing his chin.

"Yeah. Why do you, Harry Pot—on second thought, why do you, Harry, want to be in the Auror program? What's the very first, simplest thing that comes to your mind?"

Harry answered, "To fight dark wizards."

"And why would you want to fight dark wizards?" asked Luna, though whether she was helping with the essay or asking rhetorically was anyone's guess.

"Well, because...because...I guess..." Harry pulled a face. "It just seems like the right thing to do."

Luna smiled at them, then packed up her books and walked off, waving at them.

Ginny waved back, then pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and wrote it down. "One: fight dark wizards. Two: right thing. Three?" she looked at him. "Why's it the right thing to do?"

"Because dark wizards are bad," said Harry sarcastically, but he grinned. Ginny giggled and wrote it down. _3._ _Dark wizards bad._

"Four," Harry mused, chewing on his lower lip. "Someone has to fight the bad guys."

_4\. Somebody's gotta do it._

Grinning now, Harry continued. "Otherwise, who'll be safe from them?"

5\. _Save the world._

"That's NOT what I said!" Harry laughed, and Ginny joined him as she scratched it out. "You could compete with Rita Skeeter."

"Hardly," Ginny snorted, even as she wrote out, _Bump off Voldemort_ and grinned at him.

Harry shook his head. "I think I'd prefer to off Voldemort before I start the Auror Program. Otherwise it'll be hard to concentrate on training."

"Ah. Right, then." Ginny crossed it out, but then her face turned serious. "Well?"

Slowly, Harry pointed to Number Four. "I guess this is what I think the most. Someone has to do it."

Ginny set her quill down and examined it. "That's something, then." She looked up at him. "Then why you?"

"Hm?"

"Well," she tapped the paper. "We know why dark wizards should be fought in general: someone has to. But why should you yourself fight them?"

"Because..." Harry thought hard. "My—no. I guess I have seen a lot...a lot of..." he shook his head. "I've seen the damage," he sighed. Ginny met his eyes but said nothing. He murmured, "I've seen the...the suffering they cause. You can't...I can't imagine seeing those things and not...trying to stop it."

Ginny still said nothing, but put a hand lightly over his. Then with the other hand, she passed the quill to him. Harry gave her a sad smile and took it.

_5._ _Save lives._

They both stared at the parchment for a few minutes before Harry reached for it again.

_6._ _Peace._

"Any other reasons?" Ginny asked softly, looking over his shoulder.

"Yeah, but..." he smiled wryly. "Somehow I don't think they're quite what the Aurors have in mind."

"But they're still _your_ reasons. Might be a good idea to know them. It's not as if you have to give this to the Aurors."

Harry rested his chin on his hand, the quill tip hovering over the parchment. "Is it...is it wrong to want them...punished?"

Ginny was silent until he met her eyes again, and then said, in a tone of absolute conviction. "No."

Then she took the quill from him and wrote:

_7\. Justice._

Harry let out his breath in a rush, and smiled ironically. "I guess when you put it like that. But sometimes...what I want..." he sighed and grimaced at her. "It goes way beyond justice."

"I know. And you're not the only one." Ginny's normally soft brown eyes went very hard, and he nodded, understanding.

"So do you think justice covers it?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I wish I did. I've got Career Advice coming up too, and I've thought about Law Enforcement. But...I just don't know."

Harry picked up the parchment and stared at the list. "I guess this is a start." He smiled at Ginny.

She smiled back. "Yes, it is."

* * *

 

"Professor," Harry said to Snape during Occlumency that night. "Can I ask you something?"

Snape eyed him. "Is this about Draco Malfoy?"

"No, sir, but..." Harry tilted his head, sensing something was up.

Snape noticed and sighed, pacing along the wall. "Would it interest you to know that I exchanged words with Mr. Malfoy shortly after the term began?"

Honestly, Harry replied, "It depends on what the words were."

Snape actually looked amused at the reply. "I told him...he has a choice."

The two of them were quiet for several minutes, then Harry said, "I guess that's all anyone can do."

"Precisely, Mr. Potter." Snape shook himself out of the apparent confiding mood and asked, "What was your question?"

"You know we're writing our essays for Specialized Defense, to apply for Magical Law Enforcement work?" Snape nodded. "I'm having a little trouble with mine. I wondered if...I could ask you about it."

Snape returned to his desk and sat down behind it. Harry recognized the pose suddenly as Snape returning to "teacher" mode instead of Order member. He waited. Snape rubbed his chin for a moment and then said, "While you are prudent to seek the assistance of your professors, I do not think I would be the best advisor regarding your particular career choice."

Harry frowned, puzzled. "But you've been fighting Voldemort for a long time. You're an Order member."

"There is an Order member teaching you Defense here," Snape pointed out. "Why have you not consulted Lupin?"

"I have," Harry said wryly. "He can't really explain _why_ any more than I can."

Snape snorted. "No, I suppose not. Why do you imagine that I could?"

Harry glanced at the chair facing the desk, and Snape waved irritably at it. Once he sat, he said, "The choice. The one you made and the one you told Malfoy about. You understand it. You must know why you made it."

He managed to sit still as Snape digested this. The Potions Master said slowly, "You make a valid point, Mr. Potter. However there is a certain flaw in your thinking. The choice you have made, to depart your childhood and spend your adulthood defending decent people against dark wizards, is quite different from the choice that I made."

Harry nodded. "To switch sides. You mean that I've always been on one side." Snape's black eyes glittered at him. "But why—"

Snape held up a hand. "I cannot explain the reasons behind my choice to change sides without first explaining the reasons behind the side I initially chose. And that is a discussion I do not wish to have with you."

Harry blinked, then realized he would be asking Snape to admit to some highly personal—and undoubtedly very nasty—things. "Oh. Okay, I guess I understand that."

"However," Snape went on. "That is not to say your questions regarding your own choice are not valid. In this instance..." he stared into space for a moment. "I would suggest consulting your godfather."

"Sirius?" Harry asked in surprise. Even if Snape had agreed to bury that hatchet, Harry hadn't expected him to ever speak to or mention Sirius voluntarily.

Snape nodded. "Black's experiences may provide him with insight useful to you. Now, if you're finished wasting time, we should begin."

Harry quickly got up, smiling to himself. _Same old Snape._

* * *

**_Dear Harry,_ **

 

**_Got your letter and had a good laugh. Tell Ron and Hermione not to worry; if Wormtail could manage the transformation, it may be easier than McGonagall thinks to become an Animagus! Oh, and do congratulate them for me. Caught snogging in a broom closet at age sixteen, they're right on schedule!_ **

**_Speaking of which, what's this I hear about you cuddling with Ginny Weasley on the sofa during the last week of holidays!_ **

**_I'm doing fine. Actually getting out of the house now and then, if you know what I mean, and plenty of visitors these days._ **

**_Take care,_ **

**_Sirius_ **

* * *

**_Sirius,_ **

 

**_I was NOT cuddling with Ginny! We were both reading the same book! That's all it was!_ **

**_There's something I want your help with, actually, speaking of Ginny. I was talking to her and Luna about my Auror essay, and we made a list of reasons to become an Auror. That's the other paper with this letter. What do you think? I still feel like there's something I'm missing, something important. I know I really want to fight dark wizards, just not exactly WHY, if that makes sense. Bloody hell, this is frustrating._ **

**_Luna says Ron and Hermione have been dipping into the Kettle of Nackledirk—that means falling in love, apparently (dunno where she got it, but that is Luna, after all.) But it's kind of funny. We got them to go on a date for the last Hogsmeade weekend, and they're going again for Valentine's Day this weekend. Ginny and I are trying to arrange a singing Valentine for them, somewhere in public._ **

**_Let me know what you think about the list. One other thing: why did YOU decide to join the Order and fight dark wizards?_ **

**_Best,_ **

**_Harry_ **

* * *

 

Harry and Ginny spent the first half of Valentine's Day at Hogwarts practicing wandless magic in the Room of Requirement—after they worked out a little gift to send on to Ron and Hermione in Hogsmeade.

"Fred and George are doing great at the joke shop," Ginny told him as they projected weak wandless Shields against the dummies' Stinging Hexes. "And they're also working on some things for the Order."

" _Ow!_ " Harry rubbed his hand and concentrated on making a stronger Shield. "I saw what they did with the fireworks in the Hogsmeade attack. Incredible. What are they cooking up now?"

"They couldn't tell me by owl, of course—ouch! Damn. I imagine there's a lot of things the twins could get away with making in the laboratory under the shop that no one would even suspect," Ginny said. "Bother, I'm never going to get this! But with all the weird smoke and explosions they set off every week, nobody'd notice a few extra while they're making some sort of weapon or potion for the Order to use."

"Every little bit helps, I guess—aha. Got it!" Harry crowed when a hex bounced off his Shield. "One more thing that can help protect people. The casualties at Hogsmeade that day probably would've been a lot worse but for the fireworks."

"Maybe that's something you should put in your essay. The need to protect people. Protect...you know...people and their homes and things," said Ginny, wincing as she was stung again. "Oh, for heaven's sake— _Hold!_ " she snapped at the dummy. To Harry, she complained, "How ARE you doing that?" Harry now had a solid Shield conjured wandlessly.

"Emotion, remember?" Harry laughed. "I'm channeling my desire to stop getting Stung."

"Oh." Ginny looked chagrinned. "I guess that makes sense. _Resume._ "

After a few more Stings, she got it, and they switched to a battle scene like the one from the D.A. meeting, with themselves partnered against the dummies.

And they won. Twice.

"I think we're getting the hang of this!" Ginny crowed as they strolled down to dinner to meet Ron and Hermione.

As suspected, the two were late, and Harry and Ginny were in conversation with Luna about their triumph against the Dummies of Doom (Ginny's term) when Ron and Hermione arrived. Red to his hairline, Ron demanded, "Who sent that bloody Singing Cupid? He followed us around for half the day!"

"Gee, Ron, I've no idea!" said Harry, as Ginny batted her eyes innocently.

Ron growled at them and stomped to a seat next to Hermione as Ginny and Harry giggled hysterically at each other. Luna smiled at them, "I see people are still dipping into the Kettle of Nackledirk!"

* * *

**_Harry,_ **

 

**_Your list is excellent. Deciding why you want to do anything that just feels "right" to you is bound to be a bit difficult. Especially for you, it's a complicated choice._ **

**_But I don't think you're as far off the mark on your reasons as you fear. I don't want to be accused of giving you TOO much guidance or usurping the role of your proper advisor by a certain professor who shall remain nameless but whose name is spelled R-E-M-U-S, but here are my thoughts._ **

**_Your career should have two important effects: the effects on you and the effects on others. So ask yourself why of all the careers out there, you think the Auror program is the best way for you to affect yourself and other people. (Okay, here's another hint: start broad, then narrow it down.)_ **

**_Oh, and in answer to your question about why I chose to fight, it's really quite simple:_ **

**_Because I can._ **

**_Good luck on your essay._ **

**_Take care,_ **

**_Sirius_ **

**_PS—Are you SURE you and Ginny weren't cuddling?_ **

* * *

 

Harry hastily folded up the letter and glanced nervously at Ginny, who was sitting right next to him reading his book about emotional magic as they sat in the Common Room after dinner. Ron and Hermione were off who-knew-where.

"Sirius said something interesting about the essay," he told Ginny.

She glanced at him. "Oh?"

"I asked him why he chose to fight. He said, 'Because I can.'" Harry put the letter in his pocket and leaned against the sofa cushions, thinking hard.

Ginny closed the book thoughtfully. "You know...maybe we've been making it too complicated."

"Or maybe we've got something too: because someone has to."

"Because someone has to, and because I can," Ginny mused, nodding. "Yeah."

Harry heard a Singing Cupid sending a Valentine to Parvati from her boyfriend at Beaxbatons and grinned. But then something clicked in his head. "Ginny, how come you didn't go to Hogsmeade today?"

She shrugged. "Didn't feel like it, I guess. Today was a couples day at all the shops, and most of my friends had dates."

Harry could feel his mind slowly processing it as the blood rushed to his face. "I just...I'm sorry if you missed out—"

"I didn't," she said firmly, but Harry wasn't finished.

"But I was going to say I'm glad you were here. For me, it was kind of a nice day."

Ginny grinned at him and re-opened the book, putting in her lap so he could keep reading it, although in truth, his mind wasn't really on emotional magic. At least not of that type. He spent nearly a chapter agonizing over one single movement he thought might be nice—it was Valentine's Day after all—but he wasn't sure he should, and lord, if anyone happened into the Common Room they'd never hear the end of it...

But no one did. All the couples were still off having final Valentine's Day snogs, so no one happened by to see Harry and Ginny reading on the sofa together, when Harry cautiously slipped an arm around Ginny's shoulders.

* * *

**_Why I Want To Enter The Auror Program by Harry Potter_ **

**_Fighting dark wizards is a dangerous and grueling job where you have to have a lot of patience and logic and skill, but someone has to do it. Every day in the Daily Prophet we see the damage that dark wizards do on our world, destroying people's homes, businesses, and lives. Someone has to stop them. I want to do it because I can._ **

**_Being an Auror is about control, controlling magic and controlling dangerous situations, and most of all, controlling yourself. Especially when I see the pain and suffering dark wizards cause, the first thing I think of sometimes is making them pay for it. But that's wrong and against the law, and that would be no better than them. As an Auror, my job would be bringing dark wizards to justice, and that's a solution I could live with. That's the right thing to do. When I see the damage they do, the only thing I can do is the right thing._ **

**_There are so many people in danger from wizards like that, innocent people who aren't trained to defend themselves so well. If they're lucky, they only lose their houses or their jobs or their money in an attack, but at worst, they can lose their lives just because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Someone has to protect them. I want to be able to do that._ **

**_Being an Auror is about power, the power to enforce the laws, and about control, so people are protected, and criminals are brought to justice. When I think about the kind of career I want for myself, I know I don't want to be powerless. And when I think about what I want my career to do for the world, I want to do something that helps people, because I know I can._ **


	35. Pride

Professor Smythe-Wellington glanced at the clock as the bell rang, and gestured her dismissal for the Specialized Defense students. As Harry packed up his notes, he heard her say, "Remain after class, Mr. Potter."

Harry froze, startled, and glanced up at her, feeling like a deer in the headlights. Smythe-Wellington raised her eyebrows and held up his application essay. Ah, it must be time for his first evaluation. Gritting his teeth, Harry nodded and sat back down again. "Good luck," Ron muttered at him.

"Thanks," Harry answered as his friends filed out the door. It swung closed with a hollow _thud_ , and he managed not to sigh. _Here we go._

Smythe-Wellington held Harry's essay in her hand and stared at him. "Did you discuss your work on this essay with anyone else? Some of your friends, perhaps?"

"Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny, Professor Snape, and Professor Lupin," Harry said flatly. He kept his face carefully expressionless as he stared back at Smythe-Wellington. He wondered how she would have reacted if he had added Sirius Black to that list. The thought helped relieve some of his tension.

"An interesting presentation of ideas," she responded, "but apparently not _all_ yours."

It struck Harry then in a burst of shock, then indignant outrage, what she was implying. He choked down the bile that rose in his throat and forced his voice to stay quiet. "I didn't cheat."

He had no intention of giving her any reason to accuse him of lack of control, although she would, he knew by now, find some reason to criticize him whether he was deserving of it or not. Smythe-Wellington's eyes drifted down to his clenched fists. "I'm sure I'm not suggesting _that_ , Mr. Potter," she said lazily. "I merely wish to know in what way your classmates and professors... _contributed_ to your essay."

Harry stared out the window, determined not to let her goad him. "I knew how I felt about becoming an Auror. I just had a hard time finding a way to put it in words. I worked out a list of things with my friends. Then I asked Professor Lupin and Professor Snape why they fought dark wizards, and..." he caught himself, afraid of giving away too much, but then met her eyes challengingly, "and why they joined the Order of the Phoenix."

Smythe-Wellington didn't react—of course, she knew about the Order, Harry wouldn't have mentioned it if he'd thought she didn't, but he knew they were trying to recruit her. After a moment of examining his essay, she asked, "Are you a member of the Order of the Phoenix, Mr. Potter?"

"Not yet."

"Yet?"

"They say I'm not old enough," Harry said, pleased that he'd kept the resentment from his voice. "I'll join when I am."

"And yet you wish to be an Auror," Smythe-Wellington remarked.

"There are other Aurors in the Order," Harry replied.

The former Auror smirked. "I'm aware of that. Attempting to enforce the law while living outside it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry demanded before he could stop himself.

She fixed him with a condescending look. "You are aware, Mr. Potter, that the Order of the Phoenix's existence is contrary to the express wishes of the Minister of Magic?"

" _My_ existence is contrary to the wishes of the Minister of Magic," Harry muttered. "If we did everything he wanted, Voldemort would have taken over by now, and we'd all be dead."

He got a snort in response. "Very theatrical. But you will find that I, along with many others in the Auror Program, take a dim view of violators of the law, for the reason I have just stated."

"But what if the law is wrong!" Harry protested.

"A common excuse made by its violators," Smythe-Wellington said dismissively.

"Just like 'it's the law' is a common excuse to get away with things that are wrong," Harry shot back.

Smythe-Wellington narrowed her eyes at him. "And your solution would be to reduce our society to lawlessness?"

"That's not what I said," Harry sighed crossly. "I don't hate laws. I wouldn't be trying to be an Auror if I did." He gritted his teeth and nodded at the essay she was fingering. "Is it 'acceptable', Professor?"

She didn't even bother to look at him this time. "I will inform you of my decision on this, along with the rest of your class performance, when individual evaluations are given next week."

_Next week. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was stretching this out just for the fun of making us all sweat._

Smythe-Wellington seemed already to be thinking about something else. "You're dismissed, Mr. Potter."

Harry stepped out of the room and headed down the hall. As he turned the corner, he slammed his hand sideways into the wall, causing the inhabitant of a nearby portrait to jump back with a startled gasp. Hermione and Ron, who had been waiting for him, both sprang at him at once. Ron glanced at the wall with concern. "Well, mate? What happened?"

Harry made no answer, just headed off down the hall, his hand and his pride stinging.

Hermione hurried alongside them. "Harry, what did she say? Didn't she like it?"

Harry laughed ruefully. "There's nothing I could do or say that she'd _ever_ like."

Ron shot Hermione a warning look, and after an "oh" of dismay, Hermione lapsed into silence. No one said another word as they made their way to their next class.

* * *

 

In Occlumency that evening, Harry was having his worst practice since the start of term, and Snape quickly picked up on his lack of concentration. As Harry picked himself up off the floor, Snape dropped his wand onto his desk and folded his arms, leaning back against it.

"All right, Potter," he said impatiently. "What's the problem?"

Harry dropped his eyes, feeling blood rush to his face. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'll try again..."

Snape cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. "Your focus is dismal. Explain it."

Harry hesitated. He was still smarting from Smythe-Wellington's remarks about the Order—and himself—that afternoon, and couldn't seem to stop thinking about it. Why couldn't she see what the Order was trying to do? The Order Aurors thought so highly of her (why, Harry had no idea), but she seemed to think them nothing more than criminals. How would Snape understand why that was keeping him from concentrating?

On the other hand...maybe dealing with attitudes like Smythe-Wellington's was something Snape _could_ understand.

"I had my first evaluation of my Auror application essay today." Snape's expression betrayed nothing, but he didn't cut Harry off, so Harry went on. "She said some things about the Order that bothered me a lot. She thinks we're...she thinks _I..._ don't care about the law. I think that's why she doesn't want me in the Auror program. I can't do anything to satisfy her. She doesn't think I'm good enough."

Snape regarded him for a moment, then said, "What do _you_ want, Mr. Potter?"

Harry blinked at him. "I want to be an Auror."

"And do _you_ think you're good enough?"

Harry shook his head. "Does it matter what I think? She's the one who'll be giving the recommendations."

With a bored expression, Snape picked up his wand and rolled it between his fingers. "Let me introduce you to a universal truth, Potter. Whatever you choose to do, however you choose to do it, there will always be individuals insisting that you are wrong." His gaze remained on the wand in his fingers. "And there will always be fingers pointing at any mistake you make, and voices to remind you of every mistake you've ever made." He paused momentarily. "You can choose to be intimidated by this, or you can ignore it." He replaced the wand on his desk but continued to stare at it for what seemed an eternity. For a moment it seemed that he had forgotten Harry's presence. Finally, he turned back to him.

"Mr. Potter, if you have truly made up your mind to be an Auror, then you would be best served applying your concentration to your goal, rather than the words of nay-sayers." Harry frowned thoughtfully, and Snape picked up his wand once more. "Now, if we can proceed with your lesson."

Harry stared at him, without readying his own wand. "Professor, can I ask you one more thing?"

Snape sighed heavily. "Go ahead."

Harry took a deep breath, then blurted, "Do _you_ think I can be an Auror?"

"Potter," Snape snarled. "Did you comprehend _nothing_ of what I just said? My opinion should be of no value to you!"

Harry nodded quickly. "I know, but...but it is. I just want to know what you think."

Snape finally gave him a direct look. "Very well. Yes, I can see you becoming an Auror." He snorted. "It would be a very Gryffindor thing to do."

* * *

 

When he returned to the Gryffindor common room, Harry was relieved to find it empty. He dropped into a chair in front of the fire and pulled his knees up to his chest. The rest of the evening had been very tense, with Snape snapping irritably at Harry, almost as if he'd regretted their earlier conversation. In fact, he'd cut the Occlumency short, and sent Harry off with a curt reminder of their next lesson. Now, curled up in his chair, Harry was lost in thought, going over in his mind what Snape had said to him. So intense was his concentration that it was several seconds before he realized that his name was being called in the empty room.

"Harry! Psst! Harry, here!"

Harry's head snapped up, and he found himself staring into the fire—directly into the face of his godfather. "Sirius!" he sat up so quickly that he slid off the seat and ended up sprawled on the hearth.

Sirius burst out laughing. "Whoa, Harry, there's only room for one at a time in here!"

Harry sat up with a grin. "Sirius, this is terrific! How did you arrange a firecall?"

Sirius laughed again, looking slightly abashed. "I didn't _exactly_ arrange it, I just did it. Same way as last year: trial and error."

"Isn't that risky for you?" Harry frowned.

"I'll keep it short. Anyway, it's worth a little risk to talk to my godson," Sirius teased.

Harry couldn't stop smiling, delighted to be talking to his godfather. "It's great to see you."

Sirius smiled back. "So, bring me up to date, Harry, what's been going on?"

"I had my Aurors' Essay evaluated today. Smythe-Wellington wasn't too happy with it," Harry grumbled.

Sirius snorted dismissively. "She's never happy about anything. Don't let her attitude discourage you."

"Well, it did, at first. I was pretty upset," Harry admitted. "But Snape gave me some good advice about it."

Sirius's expression darkened. "When were you talking to Snape?"

Harry shrugged. "It just came up during Occlumency." Sirius seemed to relax at that, and Harry supposed that for all they'd agreed to a truce, anything having to do with Snape would still get Sirius's back up.

"I'm sorry I'm not around when you need someone to talk to," said Sirius sadly.

Harry tried to smile. "I know, me too. But at least Remus is here."

"True," Sirius agreed. "The lucky git!" Harry laughed. "So what's this 'good advice' Snape gave you?"

"He told me—" The sound of the common room door opening caused Harry to sit up abruptly and Sirius to draw quickly back out of sight. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Ron and Hermione came into view.

They both stopped and stared at him, sitting on the floor. "Harry?" Hermione's voice was concerned as she came to his side. "Is something wrong?"

"You okay, mate?" Ron asked, joining her.

"He's fine!" Sirius's voice spoke up from the flames. Hermione gave a startled squeal and rocked back on her heels, nearly knocking Ron over.

Ron grinned broadly and joined Harry and Hermione in front of the hearth. "Hey, Sirius! Good to see you!"

"How are things? Hermione? You keeping these two in line?" Sirius demanded.

Hermione gave an exaggerated sigh and shook her head. "I'm _trying._ "

Ron rolled his eyes, "Yeah, she's _trying_ all right."

Harry and Sirius burst out laughing at the expression on her face, and she gave Ron a shove that knocked him off balance. The three of them sat in front of the fire for several more minutes, talking to Sirius about all the goings-on at Hogwarts, then footsteps on the dormitory stairs forced them to exchange hasty good-byes.

* * *

 

The next day after classes, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found the weather too foul to consider losing themselves on the grounds, and the Great Hall was sealed off for some reason, crowding students into classrooms, common rooms, and the library. They avoided the late season blizzard raging outside and prying eyes to find a windowsill in a quiet corridor to sit. "Hang on, mate," said Ron. "You're worrying about evaluations too much. Everyone's in the same boat—well, okay, I guess Smythe-Wellington does hate you more than anyone else in class, but, well, everyone else is really worried too since our careers are riding on this and..." he trailed off. Hermione was giving him a disgusted look.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said dryly, pressing his forehead against the cold glass. It felt good against his scar.

"Harry, you're not getting sick again, are you?" Hermione asked tentatively.

Harry closed his eyes. "Dunno. I don't think so. I just feel a little…worn down."

"I told you," said Ron. "You're stressing too much."

"Could be," Harry agreed.

Staring dully into the swirling white, he suddenly noticed dark figures moving through the snow toward the main entrance of the school. Ron saw them too. "Hey! Do you see that?"

"Yeah," Harry jumped up, fully alert again, and made room for Hermione to join them at the window.

"We're too far to see anything from here," she muttered. "Quick, the stairs above the entrance hall!"

Just as they arrived at their vantage point, the main doors swung open to admit the howling wind—and a group of people, covered in hooded cloaks against the storm, entered the castle. The three friends stared through the staircase railings. Hermione, hand over her mouth, shivered. "You don't think they're…Death Eaters, do you?"

Ron and Harry both put arms around her as the cold blast from the opened doors reached them. They stared at the entourage in the hallway. Harry shook his head. "No, they're not. Look, here come Dumbledore and McGonagall to meet them. Whoever they are, they're expected."

Several members of the group separated from the others, dropping cloaks and hoods to reveal heads of red hair. "Blimey!" Ron exclaimed. "It's Mum, Dad, Bill, and Charlie! Percy and the twins too! What're they all doing here?"

Another wizard removed his hood, dusting snow off his close, gray hair. "That's Mr. McGonagall again," said Hermione. "I thought he'd gone back to Edinburgh."

"I rather hope he doesn't," said Harry dryly. "He's good to have around."

Ron and Hermione chuckled softly as Madam Hooch struck up a conversation with the last wizard. The conversation became increasingly animated. As Dumbledore led the way towards the great hall, Hooch and the wizard followed, continuing their conversation, hands moving faster and faster. They entered the hall, still gesturing, and the doors swung shut behind them.

"Ron," Harry whispered. "Any idea who that was?"

Ron thought for a moment. "I think that must be Madam Hooch's brother. He's a professional Quidditch player. Wonder why he's here?"

With all the excitement over, Harry was feeling lethargic again. "Harry…" Hermione began.

He wrenched away from her. "Will you bloody stop it!"

"No!" she suddenly shouted, jumping up angrily. Both Harry and Ron gaped at her in surprise. "Enough of this nonsense, Harry Potter! You never manage to stop pushing yourself past the limits! You get sick, you won't admit it, you get sicker, you get angry and blow things apart—this has to stop! Put your stupid male pride aside for a change and ask someone for help!"

As Harry and Ron simply stared, she collected herself and said in a calmer, if still trembly voice, "You should go have Madam Pomfrey look at you. Just to be safe. You've been sick too much this term to take risks. If there's nothing wrong, you'll be out in twenty minutes."

Harry didn't dare argue. He let Ron and Hermione accompany him and reported to Madam Pomfrey that he was feeling a bit off. She ran Diagnostic Spells and tutted over him for a few minutes, then used her wand to draw a drop of his blood.

"Seeing as this is you, Mr. Potter, I'm going to run a quick test. It will take fifteen minutes, so have a seat."

The three of them obediently settled on one of the beds. "What sort of test, I wonder?" mused Ron.

"Blood Testing Potion, probably," said Hermione. "Add a drop of blood and the Testing Potion shows if there's anything abnormal. Different colors and steams for different ailments or toxins." She glanced over her shoulder as the hospital wing door opened.

Fred and George came in, followed by Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys—Percy included. "Harry, we heard you were here! Anything wrong?" asked Ginny.

"Probably not, I'm just tired, but Hermione made me come have a check-up," Harry told them with a faint smile.

Fred ruffled Hermione's hair, making her growl in protest. "Good show, Hermione."

Ron was hugging Percy in greeting. "How's business?"

"Well enough," Percy sighed as one long-suffering. "When I can get these two to remember that it IS a business." The twins snorted simultaneously.

"Is it…" Harry said hesitantly, "safe for you here?" Percy was still wanted by the Ministry.

"For now," said Mr. Weasley with a sigh. "Professor McGonagall kindly shooed the students out of the corridor so we could come and see you. We can't stay long."

"Arthur, dear, it's time," said Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Weasley nodded, and Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the twins followed their parents toward the door. Madame Pomfrey walked in as the others left.

Harry knew that his own face undoubtedly bore the same stunned look as the rest of his friends' faces. Madame Pomfrey clapped her hands to get their attention. "No one is allowed out in the halls for the next hour. You will all stay here. The doors will be sealed."

She paused for a moment, as if anticipating questions. No one spoke. She turned and walked out and the doors closed behind her with a decisive click.

Ron swung his arm fiercely and sent a pillow flying across the room. "What the hell is going on here and why aren't _we_ included in whatever it is!"

Ginny echoed his complaint. "There's no reason to leave us out. It's not as if we don't know what's going on with the Order!"

"Harry," Hermione gestured excitedly for the others to gather round. "Let's tell Ginny what we saw tonight. I think I may have some ideas."

Ginny nearly fell over in her eagerness. "Saw? Where? When?"

Harry explained the events on the stairway, with Ron and Hermione adding details. Ginny was clearly impressed. A long discussion ensued, regarding the reason for the presence of the wizards. "So what would bring Mr. McGonagall back here? He doesn't usually visit Hogwarts. Their home is in Edinburgh," mused Ginny.

Hermione turned to Ron. "What about the other one? Hooch's brother?"

"He plays for…who else…the Chudley Cannons!" Ron was enthused. "He's the Keeper, and a brilliant strategist."

"Look," said Harry. "What we need to figure out is what's happening in the castle. Is anybody hungry?"

At the sudden change of subject, the others looked at Harry as if he'd lost his mind. "Really, Harry!" Hermione let her annoyance show. "How can you think of food right now?"

"He's not." Ginny met Harry's eyes and laughed. "If I'm right, he's thinking of pumping the house elves for information."

Harry smiled sheepishly and nodded. She'd read his mind. "Brilliant, Harry!" Ron leaped into the center of the room and yelled at the ceiling. "We're hungry in here! House elves! How about some food!"

Within seconds of his outburst, a group of elves appeared in the room and began placing trays of food on a nearby table. "We is happy to help you, sirs and misses." One of the elves was Dobby.

"Dobby!" Harry grinned at him. "Can you stay and visit for awhile? We're rather bored."

"Harry Potter would like Dobby to stay and visit? Dobby is honored, sir."

The other elves finished laying the table and disappeared. Harry and the others gathered around the table and sampled the food.

"Great stuff, Dobby." Dobby gave a little bow in Harry's direction. "You elves must be really busy tonight with all the wizards gathered in the great hall."

The reaction spoke volumes. Dobby's ears pricked like a cat's, and his eyes widened in dismay. "Harry Potter should not be speaking of that," he said in a lowered voice.

"Sorry, Dobby." Harry carefully feigned lack of interest. "We just thought you looked tired."

"Not tired, Harry Potter. But all the house elves is sensing...there is strong magic at work at Hogwarts." Dobby appeared anxious to impress them. "All Hogwarts professors and many other wizards is here to work it."

"Really, Dobby?" Hermione looked at him over her glass. "The house elves are involved in this?"

"Oh, yes, we is very involved. We is…"

 _"DOBBY!"_ A voice rang through the room. Startled, they all looked around for its source. A second later, Dobby was gone.

"Poor Dobby." Hermione spoke anxiously. "I hope we didn't get him into a lot of trouble."

"At least we know now," said Harry, "that some sort of spell is being done here. And that it involves both powerful wizards and house elves. But what is it for?"

"I think I might know." All eyes turned to Hermione. "Wards. They're repairing the wards around Hogwarts."

"That would make sense." Ginny agreed. "And it would explain the other wizards."

"Explain how?" Ron appeared puzzled. He shot a look of irritation at his sister.

"Families, idiot. Blood ties. Old magic. I'd wager they're not only repairing the wards…they're raising new ones."

"I don't understand." Ron pushed his plate away. "Why are families so important? Why couldn't they just use the wizards who are already here at Hogwarts?"

"It's…it's bonds of love." Harry flushed, but continued his explanation. "What saved me from Voldemort when my parents sacrificed themselves. What I felt when the Pillar of Storge exploded. It's strong enough to block Voldemort. He can't beat it because he can't understand it." Embarassed, Harry kept his face turned away.

Hermione went on, "And it's the most powerful forms of love: _eros_ love between…well…lovers, or spouses, in this case, _filios_ , love between siblings, and _agape_ , spiritual love, like between parents and children."

"I get it!" Ron exclaimed.

"And we're siblings and children too," Ginny grumbled. "We could have helped."

Hermione was thinking. "I wonder…I wonder if we could," she murmured to Harry.

"Us? How? None of our parents or siblings are here," said Harry.

Ginny tilted her head. "No…but true friendship is considered _filios_ or _agape._ It's just as strong a bond, if it's…real." She shrugged sheepishly at them. "I think you and Hermione could contribute."

"Let's help them." Ron's voice brought Harry around.

"What do we do?" asked Harry.

"Warding with a power like love is instinctive," Hermione said. "The wards form from our desire to protect this place from danger."

Then, by unspoken consensus, the four of them formed a circle and joined hands. No one spoke. Suddenly, the walls around them shuddered, as if a powerful force had seized the room. The floor vibrated, and a faint pounding began.

Hermione gasped, but kept her hand in Harry's. On his other side, Ron tightened his grip, while Ginny kept a strong hold on Hermione and her brother.

The force in the room increased, buffeting them. The pounding began to take on a rhythm, to match the beating of their hearts. It was as if the castle itself had become something alive, breathing, the beating of its heart shaking the foundation of the building. The intensity swelled. The group hung on to each other.

Harry felt himself sliding into a trancelike state, a feeling of timelessness, almost a loss of consciousness. He was aware only of the hands in his, the heartbeat pounding, pounding…a surge of something powerful binding them all together. The feeling escalated. The pounding of the heartbeat was going to tear his chest apart. He was vaguely aware that someone near him had cried out. Then the castle came crashing down over him, and everything went black.

* * *

 

"It's all right, Minerva. He's coming around." Harry opened his eyes and found himself staring into the bearded face of Murdo McGonagall. He realized, with a sense of shock, that his hands were empty. Panicked, he tried to rise. "Don't, laddie. They're all fine. You did what you intended to do."

Professor McGonagall appeared beside her husband. She looked tired, but pleased. Producing a familiar crystal vial from her robe, she held it out to Harry. "Restorative potion, Mr. Potter. Heaven knows, you need it."

Harry looked around. The others were sitting up, looking vaguely dazed, attended by other adults. As Harry watched, they received their vials of potion, and began to look around as well.

Murdo McGonagall was standing next to Professor McGonagall, watching Harry. "You know, Harry Potter, my wife is a very canny woman. She told me that we would not be able to prevent you from involving yourself in this." Professor McGonagall shook her head.

"Will this keep Voldemort out now?" Hermione asked from the next bed.

"It's uncertain, Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall. "Warding is a complicated concept. At the very least, the anti-apparition wards are as intact as we can make them. But the point of warding is not to form a simple barrier—barriers can be broken. Rather, it creates a resistance in the very air, earth, and life itself against anything that intends harm. Vol…ahem. Lord V-Voldemort will find himself at a distinct disadvantage if he or his followers attempt to bring their war here. Magic itself is swayed against them."

"How did you know we were involved?" Harry asked.

"We felt you join with us, Harry. And, I believe, you felt us as well," said Mrs. Weasley. She was wringing her hands. "I'm amazed that you only fainted. A child should never participate in so strong a ritual."

Her husband's voice admonished her. "They did well, Molly. And together, they were strong enough."

* * *

 

Harry arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning and slid into the seat next to Ginny. She gave him a smile, then leaned closer to whisper, "Harry, no one here is talking about what happened yesterday." She glanced around the room with a perplexed look. "It's as if it never did."

Harry looked up at the Head Table and met the eyes of Murdo McGonagall, who was seated next to his wife. He nodded, and Harry grinned back. Catching Ginny's eye, he indicated the couple at the Head Table. "It happened," he said, satisfaction in his voice.

Ron and Hermione entered the Hall and joined them at the table. Ron made a grab for the nearest platter, exclaiming, "I'm starving!" and proceeded to fill his plate.

Hermione rolled her eyes, then turned to Harry and Ginny. "Have you noticed that no one seems to be aware of the warding?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, we noticed. Don't you think that's a bit strange?"

Hermione shook her head. "We're aware of it because we were part of it."

Ron paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. "You know, that was one of the weirdest experiences of my life."

"Weird is right," said Harry.

"I'd call it intense," said Hermione thoughtfully.

Harry was nodding in agreement when a hand on his shoulder startled him. He twisted in his seat and looked up into the face of Remus Lupin. "If you're finished, take a walk with me, Harry?" Remus smiled.

"Sure," Harry scrambled from his seat and waited for a moment while Remus greeted the others, then followed him out of the Great Hall.

They set off in the general direction of Remus's office. Harry eyed Remus curiously. "Did you need to talk to me?"

"Not about anything special," Remus shook his head. "I just haven't seen much of you in the past few days. Are you recovered from yesterday's little adventure?" He smiled knowingly.

"Sure, I feel fine," said Harry. He paused for a moment, uncertain whether to approach Remus with something that had been in the back of his mind for two days. "I've been having a problem with Specialized Defense, though. And," he paused again, "in Occlumency the other night I asked Snape about it."

" _Professor_ Snape, Harry," Remus corrected him automatically. "Was he any help?"

"Yeah, he was," Harry shot a worried look at him. "Do you mind? I mean, that I asked him instead of you?"

Remus looked puzzled. "Not at all, why do you ask?"

Harry grimaced. "Well, when I talked to," he glanced quickly around and lowered his voice, "Sirius afterward, he seemed annoyed that I'd gone to Snape."

Remus froze. " _Talked_ to Sirius!" He grabbed Harry's arm. "How? Where?"

Harry had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that he shouldn't have mentioned it. "He made a firecall to the common room." Remus's jaw tightened, and Harry hastened to reassure him, "It was okay, it was just me. Well, then Ron and Hermione came in."

Remus said nothing for a moment, then he released his hold on Harry, his face tense. "Anybody could have come in."

They had reached the office, and Harry needed to head for his next class. He hesitated at the door. "It was just for a few minutes, and it was really great talking to him. I wish..."

Remus interrupted him. "I understand, Harry. I'll see what I can do about setting up some _secure_ calls, perhaps in here." He smiled. "I'll arrange things with Sirius."

Harry grinned and started off down the hall, but when he turned and glanced back through the open door, Remus was looking towards the fireplace. His expression was distinctly cross.

* * *

 

Harry spent the next few days wondering if he'd survive until Easter holidays. He was anxious to get away, back to Grimmauld Place and time with Sirius. Stress levels in general were running high, as several professors had assigned extra work. There had also been several rather disturbing accidents occuring in Transfiguration during Animagi training which was causing quite a few students to rethink their earlier enthusiasm about making the transformation. Professor McGonagall had assured them that this was quite normal.

On top of that, Hermione seemed to be dividing her time between living in the library and showing up suddenly to harangue Harry and Ron into work-study sessions in the common room. Although he did accomplish more when she was around, Harry was beginning to have fantasies about smothering her with one of the sofa cushions. And Ron had taken to disappearing into the boys' dormitory whenever the common room door opened unexpectedly.

Beyond stressful, Harry would feel his stomach clench whenever he thought about the upcoming evalutions in Specialized Defense. He couldn't imagine that Smythe-Wellington would give him a decent assessment; he just hoped this wasn't going to crush his chances of being an Auror for good and all. By the time he entered the Specialized Defense classroom and took his seat on the day of evaluations, he felt clammy and sick.

Judging by the pale faces and shaking hands of his classmates, however, he wasn't the only one worrying. Even Malfoy was having difficulty maintaining his usual unconcerned slouch; in fact, he was rather stiff and fidgety. Hardly anyone was talking, but the silence was absolute when Professor Smythe-Wellington entered the room. She stood motionless for a moment, but her eyes traveled about the class, examining their faces.

 _What is this, slow torture? Why can't she just get on with it?_ Harry fumed, anxiety making him extremely cranky.

"You are about to receive your first evaluation in Aptitude for Magical Law Enforcement, as promised. Remember as you read it that this is a _tool_ to be used by you to correct any deficiencies in your performance in this class. It should also help you to focus on, and enhance those qualities that are your strength. I will be available to answer any questions you may have." She paused. "And one more thing: it is, of course, my preference that you do not discuss your evaluations with your classmates. Any concerns should be addressed solely to me." Once again, she glanced around the room. "Questions? No? Good." She walked over to her desk and waved her wand, and an envelope appeared on the desk of every student.

Harry stared at his for a long moment. Around him, he heard the others opening their evaluations, followed by occasional gasps and groans. He picked it up at last and pulled out the neatly-folded paper. Slowly, he unfolded it and began to read.

**_Preliminary Evaluation of Student Aptitude and Suitability for Magical Law Enforcement_ **

**_Subject:_ HARRY POTTER**

**_Physical/Magical Skills: Student is possessed of physical ability appropriate to age group and exceptional magical skills, however lack of emotional control effectively negates these attributes._ **

**_Evaluation: Below Acceptable Standards_ **

**_Problem-Solving Skills: Student has displayed limited progress in the area of problem-solving. Consistently tends towards over-reliance on the opinion of others. Poor grasp of logic, often shows questionable judgment._ **

**_Evaluation: Below Acceptable Standards_ **

**_Application Essay: Length and content meet required standards. Evidence suggests limited initiative on expression of ideas._ **

**_Evaluation: Marginally Acceptable_ **

**_Aptitude: Student displays evidence of aptitude for Magical Law Enforcement. Progress limited by attitude of unwillingness to exercise greater emotional control. Shows difficulty accepting criticism, responds with resentment and sullen manner. Unless these aspects of student's behavior change, student is unlikely to succeed in Magical Law Enforcement training programs._ **

"Harry! Psst, Harry, calm down! Breathe, Harry!"

Harry blinked out of the trance of indignant outrage to realize that Hermione was frantically trying to get his attention without also getting Smythe-Wellington's. Following her wide-eyed gaze, he looked at the paper in his hands to see that the edges were starting to smolder. He hissed in surprise, then realized what he'd been doing and forced himself to take some deep breaths the way Remus had taught him. (And quietly put the paper down and began patting its edges surreptitiously.)

He heard Hermione let out her breath in relief behind him, and shot her a quick, reassuring glance. _That was close,_ she mouthed at him; he nodded, and they quickly turned back to their papers.

His initial frustrated anger subsided, he forced himself to re-read the evaluation. He noted the few positives in the report. _Adequate physical skills...exceptional magical skills...displays evidence of aptitude for Magical Law Enforcement..._ A voice spoke from the back of his mind: _You would be best served applying your concentration to your goal, rather than the words of nay-sayers._

Harry found himself able to lift his head and looked calmly towards the front of the room. Professor Smythe-Wellington was watching him, and she raised her eyebrows slightly as she met his gaze.

A couple of students approached the desk, obviously with questions about their evaluations. Harry watched as the rest of his classmates either left the room or stood in line at the desk. Next to him, Hermione stood up to leave. "All right, Harry?" She paused for a moment.

Harry met her look. "I'm okay, Hermione, really."

She hesitated for another moment, then nodded and walked out. Ron glanced after Hermione, then back at Smythe-Wellington's desk and apparently decided he didn't feel like braving the professor today. He mouthed, _See you later,_ at Harry, and followed Hermione.

Finally, the area around the desk cleared, and Harry was the only student left in the room. Professor Smythe-Wellington was observing him. "I assume the fact that you remain behind indicates a desire to discuss your evaluation, Mr. Potter." Harry nodded. "Very well, kindly gather up your things and come up here. I have no desire to shout across the room to you."

Harry was reaching down to grab his bag when he heard the door open. He looked up as it slammed shut behind the figure that had just entered. Mad-Eye Moody stumped over to the desk, slapped both hands down on it, and leaned forward. "Priscilla, you've been avoiding me." He grinned at her. "I'm still waiting for your answer."

Much to Harry's surprise and consternation, Professor Smythe-Wellington grinned back at Moody. "Go away, Alastor. I can't discuss this in front of a student."

Moody simply seated himself on the desk. Though he hadn't acknowledged Harry's presence, Harry knew the old Auror had seen him the moment he walked in the door. Moody now shot a casual glance at Harry, then looked back at Smythe-Wellington. "Boy knows why I'm here. I cast a Silencing Charm on my way in, so it's perfectly safe to talk. _Have_ you made up your mind yet?"

Smythe-Wellington folded her arms and turned the same look of appraisal on Moody that she used so often on her students. He returned the look with one of his own. "Well?"

She shook her head. "My decision is unchanged from the last time we chatted, Alastor. Too many of your activities are in direct conflict with the Ministry of Magic." Moody opened his mouth to reply, and she quickly put her fingers over his mouth. "Don't interrupt." To Harry's surprise (and horror), Moody took her hand from his face and continued to hold it. "My entire career has been about upholding wizarding law. I'm not changing my principles now. I'll do what I can for the war—you know that. But first and foremost, I will support wizarding law and the Ministry that makes that law. I see no compelling reason to change my mind at this point."

Moody remained silent for a moment, then grinned at her again. "Perhaps, Priscilla, my dear, you've missed the _most_ compelling reason for joining."

"And just what would that be?"

Moody's grin turned into a leer. "The opportunity to spend more time with me."

Professor Smythe-Wellington laughed outright and pulled her hand from his. "That's enough, Alastor! Now out! I have school business to conduct here, and you're _distracting_ me."

Moody stumped his way over to the door, where he turned and winked at her. "Till next time, m'dear." The door closed behind him. Smythe-Wellington stared at the door for a moment with a look of exasperation on her slightly-flushed face.

Harry found himself wishing he could sink through the floor and disappear rather than face her after having witnessed that exchange. He busied himself gathering up his books and took his time about it before approaching the desk. Professor Smythe-Wellington seemed to have regained her composure and met his gaze calmly as if they'd never been interrupted. "I do not believe, Mr. Potter, that I need to remind you that Auror business is confidential."

Harry shook his head. "No, Professor, it's not necessary."

"We were discussing your evaluation?"

Harry hesitated, then decided he might as well get it over with. "Can I take the rest of the year to improve in this class, or are you suggesting that I drop it?"

She stared at him. "No, I'm not recommending that at this time, but it is something to which you should give careful consideration." She paused. "Anything else?"

"No." Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out the door.

* * *

 

After finishing the day's classes, Harry figured he'd have time to talk to Remus before dinner. There'd be Occlumency after dinner, so this would be his only chance to find out if Remus had been able to set up another fire call with Sirius.

He had just raised his hand to knock at Professor Lupin's office door when he heard voices inside. He reached for the knob, edged the door open slightly, and peered in. Remus was pacing in front of the fireplace, and although Harry couldn't see that far, it was certainly Sirius's voice issuing from it.

"Oh, come on, Remus, it wasn't that big a risk!"

Remus had turned back towards the fireplace. "It could have been!"

"I waited until late; Harry's always the last one out of there. I did know what I was doing!"

"I'm not saying you didn't, I'm just asking for a little more caution on your part!"

"Caution, my arse!"

"Sirius!"

"Remus, for God's sake, will you relax?" Sirius sounded as if he was trying not to laugh.

Remus sighed in exasperation. "My point is that you could just as easily have come to me. We could arrange a firecall here in my office without risk of exposing you— _or_ Harry."

Sirius no longer sounded amused. "What's this, now I have to get your permission to talk to my godson?"

"Sirius, calm down, you know perfectly well that's not what I meant!" Remus resumed pacing, and as he turned towards the door, realized it was slightly open. "Who's there!" In a second, he had pulled his wand, the door flew wide open, and Harry ended up sprawled across the doorway. "Harry!" Remus pulled him to his feet and shut the door. "You nearly gave me a heart attack! Why didn't you knock?"

Harry stared at Remus. "That was Sirius you were talking to. Why didn't you...why wasn't the door warded?"

Remus smiled. "It was, just not against you."

"Oh." Harry walked over to the hearth and stared into the empty flames. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Remus said quickly. "Just trying to figure out the best means of having future communications between you and Sirius that don't involve him sticking his head into Gryffindor Tower."

"Oh. Okay." Harry somewhat wanted to inquire further, but Remus looked uncomfortable, so he dropped the subject.

* * *

_"Legilimens!"_

 

Harry fought the invasion into his mind, concentrating, centering...without raising his wand...the feel of his godfather's arms around him...fighting back... _rrrgh_...Sirius and Remus lighting Christmas candles...laughter...family.

Harry's eyes flew open as the attack ceased. Snape looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "You show some improvement, Mr. Potter."

Harry felt his rapid heartrate beginning to slow and took a deep breath. He kept his wand lowered and stared directly at Snape. "Let's have another go at it."

Snape moved faster than Harry had expected. _"Legilimens!"_

Fred and Ginny's figures lying helpless on the Quidditch pitch...the shock and disbelief on Sirius's face as he fell toward the veil...Ron held captive by Snape with Hermione slumped at his feet in front of a possessed Harry...

The blood was pounding in Harry's head, and he couldn't breathe as he fought back. The D.A., gathered around him to stop Fudge...Fred and George exiting the Great Hall under an arch of red sparks...sitting in the cave on the mountain talking with Snape...

The attack stopped so abruptly that Harry stumbled against the wall with a gasp. Snape had taken a reflexive step backward and was staring at Harry with a look of incredulity on his face. Harry caught his breath. "Professor?"

Snape schooled his features back into his usual look of bored indifference. "A fast reaction again." He eyed Harry speculatively. "I would be interested in knowing, to what do you attribute your progress?"

Harry straightened up and slid his wand into the pocket of his jeans, using the moment to gather his thoughts. "Everything," he replied honestly. "The lessons in wandless magic—learning the control—working with Remus...and Sirius...on handling my emotions." He grinned to himself, "And of course, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. They're always on me about controlling myself."

Snape nodded. "Your friends. Your _strength,_ Potter."

Harry sat down in the chair facing Snape's desk. "The 'power the Dark Lord knows not,'" he whispered. A long moment passed.

Snape walked behind his desk and sat down. "You still don't know if that is in fact the case."

Harry shook his head. "But if it is...hell, even if it isn't, it still bothers me. People I care about are going to be on the front lines with me when Voldemort makes his move. And if it is true, that in some way, they're pivotal to my ability to fight him, then they have to be there. Directly in harm's way...because of me."

Snape shot him a withering look. "Is there a point to all this?"

"A _point?_ " Harry sat up straight in disbelief. "The _point_ , _sir_ ," he spat out, "is that I don't want them to die because they have to be there with me!" He threw himself back in the chair again, and the heavy wood gave a creak of protest.

Snape ignored Harry's outburst. "It is _you,_ Potter, who are missing an important _point_ to all this. All of these people have as much invested in the destruction of the Dark Lord as you have. They are fighting for the Order, for their families, for their friends. They are fighting every bit as much for the preservation of our world as for you. And if you were suddenly _gone_ , Potter, they would still go up against the Dark Lord. They will fight, with or without you, because that is what they _must_ do...what all of us must do...if any of us are going to survive."

Harry stared at him in shock. He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Snape took a deep breath. "This is reality, Potter. Nothing you can do will change it, and there is no time or energy for any of us to waste trying to deny what must be."

Harry flinched and looked away. "Bloody reality," he muttered.

Snape gave a faint snort. "Of course. It always is. Accept it and move forward, Potter. That is your only option."

* * *

 

The final Friday before Easter holidays began, students crowded the halls, making their way from classroom to office to drop off papers and projects and finish whatever was required before the Hogwarts Express left.

"I am _so_ glad," Hermione sighed, "that our break begins tomorrow. I'm going to collapse for the whole week."

"Yeah, right," Ron laughed. "You just want to get back into," he lowered his voice, "the Black library. You'll be collapsed under a foot-high stack of books!"

Harry grinned, and Hermione giggled. "That sounds about right!"

They joined a queue of students lined up at the door of the Specialized Defense classroom. Ernie MacMillian and Seamus Finnegan greeted them as they joined the line. "From the looks of this crowd," said Seamus, "she didn't scare off nearly as many students as she expected to."

"Not if they're all here for the same reason we are," Ron replied. "To pick up their Auror application packet."

The line moved forward slightly, and a student stepped through the doorway just as another came out. Draco Malfoy, carrying a thick packet of papers, came to a stop next to them. "Well, Potter," he surveyed the group with a look of distaste. "I'd figured that you'd have given this up by now."

"I hadn't noticed you doing any better with this class than me, Malfoy."

Malfoy smirked. "Maybe not. But I have one advantage that you don't have."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Really? Don't hold me in suspense, Malfoy!"

"Exactly right." Malfoy laughed. "I'm a _Malfoy_ We get what we want." He turned and walked off.

Behind him, Hermione gave a snort of derision. "Oh, really? _I'm a Malfoy_ ," she mimicked in a prissy voice.

Ron glared after him. "That git. Thinks his money will get him everything."

Harry shook his head. "Not this time. Professor Smythe-Wellington doesn't strike me as the kind who can be bought off, by a Malfoy or anybody else." Hermione glanced over at him with a questioning look, but he didn't elaborate.

The line continued moving fairly quickly, as one student after another picked up their packet and left. Ernie, Seamus, Ron, and Hermione, stepped off to the side, packets in hand, to wait for Harry as he went in.

Professor Smythe-Wellington was seated at her desk with a pile of application packets in front of her. To Harry's surprise and gratification, Remus Lupin sat beside the desk, marking off the list of students as packets were picked up.

Harry approached the desk, and Professor Smythe-Wellington held out his packet without really looking at him. "Going through with it then, Mr. Potter?"

Harry took his Auror application and glanced at Remus, who was marking his name off the list of students. Remus winked at him. Smythe-Wellington looked up, and Harry met her eyes steadily. "Of course."

Her lips twitched slightly, and if it had been anyone else, Harry would have thought she was suppressing a smile.


	36. April Showers

"Good thing we get to Floo home for Easter hols," said Ron, looking out the common room window. "It's pouring out there."

Hermione put down her suitcase and shrugged. "April showers bring May flowers."

"And what do April thunderstorms bring?" Harry asked wryly.

"May trees falling," said Ginny. "Come on. The Hogwarts Express lot is long gone by now."

They were collecting their bags and heading for the portrait hole when someone spoke up from an armchair facing the fire. "Figures you'd get special treatment even on the trip home."

Hermione and Ron jumped, and Ginny and Harry stared as Jack Sloper turned the chair sideways, watching them sullenly in the light of the fireplace. "Happy Easter to you too, Sloper," said Ron curtly. "Have a nice holiday. C'mon," he said, beckoning to Harry.

Harry started to follow obediently, but Jack said to Ron, "You don't care about your family at all, do you, hanging around with him? You do realize it's only a matter of time before one of them gets blasted in the crossfire."

Harry swallowed bile; he reminded himself that Sloper had lost a relative and was probably still grieving. Fortunately, Ginny prevented him from having to speak by answering, "If you weren't so busy being a prat, Sloper, you'd realize that Harry's not responsible for what Voldemort's lot does." Jack jumped. "And we don't walk out on our friends when they're in trouble."

"Spare me the tripe," Jack snapped, standing up. He glared bitterly at Hermione and said, "You at least ought to be smarter than that, Granger—you're Muggleborn! You might as well put a big target on your head! Is he really worth it?"

Without hesitating for an instant, Hermione responded. "Yes. He is." She came to Harry's side and pulled his arm. "Come on." They left Sloper standing there, looking half confused, half disgusted, as they went out the portrait hole to depart Gryffindor Tower.

"Don't you think about it," Ron told Harry as they walked to Dumbledore's office. "Don't."

Harry was quiet, and Hermione added, "We've been through this before. You can't question yourself and our friendship every time someone uses it to give you a hard time."

"I know!" Harry said, more sharply than he meant to. He gave Hermione a weak smile as reassurance, then shook his head. "I just...was thinking that I'm really grateful." Blood rushed to his face, Hermione beamed, and he hastily looked at the floor before he saw Ron and Ginny's reactions. He heard Ginny giggle, but told himself firmly, _I AM grateful. Not to mention lucky. I can't do this without them._

One of the things Harry's Emotional Magic book had said was that an emotion must be embraced in order to take full advantage of it. Well, that was simple enough with defensive magic—self-defense was easy to embrace. But offensive magic was different, he'd come to realize; it meant either embracing malice and rage like Voldemort, or finding some other emotion to drive an attack. So far, he hadn't been able to figure that one out.

But one thing Harry had realized he needed to accept was his feelings about his friends. He needed them. Even if they weren't that "power the Dark Lord knows not," he still needed them. And maybe their friendship wasn't the power the prophecy talked about, but it still had power. It had just taken him awhile to realize that.

They Floo'd from Dumbledore's office, but arrived in the parlor of Twelve, Grimmauld Place to hear a commotion in the entrance hall.

"How many?"

"At least two dozen—that's a kill strike! Tonks, get reinforcements there on the double!"

" _FILTHY HALF-BREEDS, BLOOD TRAITORS, HOW DARE YOU DEFILE THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS—_ "

"Shut UP! Bloody _SILENCIO!_ "

The front door was opening and closing loudly, some of the other portraits were still screaming, and people were yelling. Harry dropped his bag and ran.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were at his heels as he burst into the entrance hall. "What happened!"

"Sirius, Remus, we've got it, stay here with—Harry!" Bill Weasley pressed back against the wall so Mad-Eye Moody could get past him out the door. "Listen, all of you, there's an emergency—"

Someone pounded on the door. "Casualty!"

Bill threw the door open, yelling at them over his shoulder, "Get back!" and Percy stumbled in, supporting an Order member Harry didn't recognize.

"More coming!" Percy warned. "They've got anti-Apparition wards up!"

Sirius swore and spun toward the stairs. "I'll get the Portkeys!" He gripped Harry's arm as he ran past, but had no time to do more than swiftly meet his godson's alarmed eyes. Remus had the wounded wizard by the other side and was helping Percy guide him into the parlor.

"Sirius, get the emergency kits too!"

"They're coming!"

Bill opened the door again to admit another casualty, and Hermione cried, "Dad?"

Mr. Granger was holding a cloth to his bleeding lip and moved as though his ribs pained him. He was still struggling against Emmeline Vance and Mr. Weasley. "Moira—my wife—get-her—"

Harry's blood went cold as Hermione shoved past him. "What's happening!"

Mr. Granger turned dazed eyes toward his daughter and gasped, "House...they're at the house—"

Mrs. Weasley and Bill came in and firmly steered the injured Muggle to the parlor. Harry could hear groans and barked instructions from Sirius. Mrs. Weasley hurried back to Hermione. "Hermione, dear, your house is under attack. Your father's going to be fine, and the Order is getting your mother out now."

Harry and Ron grabbed Hermione's arms as she swayed. "They said—kill strike..."

"We've got the whole Order on it," Mrs. Weasley tried to assure her as two more injured wizards were brought in, but someone bellowed from the parlor.

"Molly! We need you!"

"Harry, Ronnie, look after her," Mrs. Weasley hurried away. "Bill, get me two vials of Blood Replenisher!"

Bill went sprinting down the stairs and shouted over his shoulder at them, "Get out of the doorway, you lot! Let us work!"

Ron and Harry steered Hermione to the foot of the main staircase, out of the entrance hall and away from the parlor doors. Ron sighed and tried to get her to sit down. "They're right. We'd just be in the way."

Hermione wasn't listening to him, but to the noises from the entrance hall. The front door was still opening and closing, Mrs. Black was screaming again, and people were still running around. "We're cut off from the house!" someone shouted.

"Shit! Where's our reinforcements!"

Ginny tried to take Hermione's arm, but she wrenched away, refusing to look at them. "Hermione..." Ron began, getting up, but she ignored him as she pulled the little charm bracelet that her parents had given her for Christmas off her wrist. "What're you doing?"

Hermione tapped the bracelet with her wand, still not looking at them. _"Portus."_

"NO!" Harry and Ron lunged forward and grabbed her, then Harry felt a tug on his navel that pulled him away in a rush of wind and color.

* * *

 

They landed in a sunny bedroom with a neatly-made bed, light curtains, and a soft, pale carpet. It would have been quite pleasant but for the bedlam going on outside it. Harry untangled himself from Ron and Hermione and scrambled to his feet. "Where are we?" he hissed.

"My room," Hermione said, holding out the bracelet to them. "You two should go back." When they both looked at her in disgust, she sighed and put it back on. "All right, then. Shh." She led them to the door and peered out. "Downstairs," she whispered.

Harry could hear shouted curses, groans...and a woman sobbing somewhere below. Hermione stiffened, and his skin crawled as they crept out onto the landing. By the look of it, much of the Grangers' house had already been ransacked. Hermione peeked around a corner and beckoned noiselessly to them.

Death Eaters were crowding the ground floor, some injured, some arguing, some throwing hexes through the windows, some harassing an injured Auror lying on the floor, and others taunting the unarmed woman huddled in a corner. "Whaddaya think of our world now, Muggle scum?" one sneered. "Thought your brat could just waltz in and play at being a witch?"

"I'll show you a witch!" laughed another. _"Crucio!_ "

As Mrs. Granger screamed, Hermione struck. _"Ferito!"_ The blast of the curse threw both Death Eaters into the dining room table, and curses from Harry and Ron dropped three more. "Mum!"

" _Minuofracta_ _Ictuo_ " Harry yelled. "Ron, cover them! _Percutio!_ " Ron threw shields in front of Hermione and her mother as Harry blasted out the windows. They had to let the Aurors know they were here.

Taken by surprise, the Death Eaters in the house tried to rally, only to hear the noise of an Order assault growing outside. Hermione yanked her mother behind the kitchen counter and rejoined Harry as Ron followed with the wounded Auror. _"Tectus! Plagas!_ "

" _Contego!_ We need their wards down," Harry said. "Any ideas?"

"They must be—duck!—temporary— _Pressum!_ " said Ron.

Hermione fired off two curses at Death Eaters as they came through the door and said, "I can do it; I live here. Cover me!"

Harry and Ron conjured the strongest shields they could, and Hermione threw up her hands and shut her eyes. "What—" Mrs. Granger began.

There was a dazzling flash, the remaining unbroken windows shattered, and paint cracked off the walls. Harry heard many rapid cracks in succession as Order members and Aurors apparated in, but Hermione dropped to the floor. Mrs. Granger cried out and scrambled toward her as Death Eaters began yelling, "Pull out!"

"Out of the house, quick!" Ron yelled, grabbing the wounded Auror. "They'll burn it! Get Hermione!"

But Mrs. Granger was already pulling her exhausted daughter upright, so Harry ran ahead of them and led the way. From what he could tell, most of the Death Eaters were trying to disapparate, though a few were throwing _Incendio_ curses at the carpet and curtains as they fled. Harry and Ron used their wands to hit the smoldering spots with jets of water as they made their way out. Some of the other Death Eaters were already pinned down and simply fighting to escape capture.

"POTTER!" bellowed a familiar voice, and Harry spotted Snape in the fray, dueling with the elder Goyle. The former spy waved Harry toward the edge of the garden, where most of the fighting had stopped and other injured were being gathered.

"Go, quick!" Harry told Ron and Mrs. Granger, keeping them shielded as they led their charges along. "Stay low!"

It seemed they would escape the melee unnoticed—until Goyle, Sr. stunned Snape and regrouped with two other Death Eaters, all throwing hexes in every direction.

"Watch out!" Ron yanked the injured Auror to the ground and conjured a shield, but a powerful Blasting Hex slammed into the ground at Harry's feet, throwing him one direction, Hermione and her mother in another.

Snape got up and caught one of the Death Eaters in the back, but Goyle and the other had recognized Harry and Hermione.

What happened next happened so fast...

Harry was trying to scramble to his feet, reaching for his wand desperately, when he heard Mrs. Granger shout, "Hermione!"

He saw Goyle aiming directly at Hermione, who had also been left wandless by the powerful blast, when Mrs. Granger threw herself across her daughter. There was no time to reach his own wand as Goyle roared, _"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

Green light aced toward Hermione and Mrs. Granger. Harry didn't even hesitate, but surged upright to put himself directly between Goyle and his targets. The last thing he heard was Hermione's voice, screaming hysterically, and the last thing he saw was Snape's face, frozen in stark terror, before his vision erupted in a blaze of green.

* * *

 

The green light of the Killing Curse faded, leaving a curious pins-and-needles sensation as Harry drew a shaky breath. He blinked once, then again as his vision slowly focused and his other senses re-oriented themselves.

The first thing he heard was muffled sobs nearby and groans of pain further away. The first thing he saw was a large bundle of black robes in the grass a few paces in front of him.

"Harry?" someone squeaked from behind him.

He started to turn, but balance deserted him, and he wound up dropping to his knees in the grass, feeling the beginnings of what he instinctively knew would be a monstrous headache.

_Bloody hell...I think I just survived another Killing Curse..._

_Ow._

Someone grabbed his shoulders—hard—and he found himself staring at Snape's white face. The Potions Master was as wild-eyed as when he'd found Harry in his Pensieve, and almost as angry. "You STUPID boy! You bloody IDIOT!" he roared, shaking Harry vigorously.

"Stop it," Harry muttered distractedly, trying to pull away.

Snape only tightened his grip and shook harder, causing Harry's still-tingling nerves to scream in protest. "What the HELL were you thinking! Do you have ANY IDEA what would have become of us all!"

"Stop it!" Harry grunted as his head pounded in time with the shaking.

"You are THE MOST THOUGHTLESS, RECKLESS—"

"You're _hurting_ me!" Harry exclaimed.

Snape broke off, alarmed yet again, and held Harry upright as he began to sag. "Potter, where ds id..." The rest of his words faded to nonsense amid the roaring in Harry's ears. The late afternoon sun was much too bright, forcing Harry to squint and clumsily try to shield his eyes.

The last thing he remembered was someone easing him onto the grass...

* * *

 

"Harry?"

"Mm?"

"Harry, can you hear me?"

"Mm-hm."

"Can you open your eyes?"

Harry tried to shake his head and immediately winced. "Mm-mm."

"Harry—"

"Head's...bloody...killing me..."

It really was. Harry was convinced Grawp must have got together with some giant friends and used his head for a football. Even the tiniest movement brought an explosion of pain that started somewhere above his eyes and seemed to ricochet back and forth inside his skull.

But someone familiar was holding his hand tightly, and a cool, damp cloth was being pressed against his forehead. A waft of some vaguely familiar potion reached his nose. Ahh, that helped a lot. Harry opened his eyes a crack and saw his godfather's white face. "Hey, Sirius."

"Hey, kid," said Sirius with a weak laugh. "You just took ten years off my life!"

"Huh? Oh, er...sorry..." Harry mumbled, not quite sure what he was apologizing for. "Wha...what happened?"

Sirius sat back and rubbed his forehead, brushing strands of long hair out of his face. "Well...the Aurors are going mad—you're now 'The-Boy-Who-Lived—twice!'" Harry groaned, and he grinned. "It's your own fault. Anyway, Hermione's fine, if a little hysterical, and Mrs. Granger will recover as well."

"Oh," Harry groggily rubbed his eyes. "Good—oh!" Then he remembered. "Bloody hell, Hermione's mum—"

"Easy!" Sirius exclaimed, putting a hand on his chest. "I told you; she's going to be fine. They're all just shaken up. And just a bit—"

There was a knock at the door, followed by it being quickly opened. "I heard voices," Remus explained when Sirius frowned at him. "Ron and Hermione will be climbing the walls soon if they're not allowed to see him."

Sirius's face softened, and he looked questioningly at Harry. "Sure," Harry said, gingerly sitting up. His head didn't feel quite ready to explode anymore; the pain had lessened to a dull throbbing.

Sirius was propping a few more pillows behind him when Ron and Hermione came rushing in. Both were white-faced, and Hermione looked as if she'd been crying very hard. And she was still crying, as she practically threw herself at Harry, making his head pound from the impact.

"Ow."

"Hey! Careful there," Sirius exclaimed, tugging her back.

"Oh," Hermione squeaked, and sat back, blotting her face on her sleeve. "I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean, but—Harry, _why_ — _how_ could you—"

Ron was almost as distraught as she was. "Why'd you do that, mate!" he demanded. "You could've—you almost—"

"Harry," Hermione said, swallowing her sobs. "If you'd died, we'd have...we'd have... _lost!_ "

"What!" Sirius exclaimed.

 _Oh, bugger...think fast..._ Harry shot Hermione a glare. "Don't exaggerate. I'm not as important as all that—and even if I _was_ ," he said sharply when his friends started to protest, "I...you two always talk about dying for me. Why shouldn't I be able to do the same for you?"

" _Because—_ " Hermione started, but Ron cut her off.

"Look, mate, you just can't—"

"Yes, I CAN!" Harry shouted, then winced as his head made a thunderous protest. When his ears stopped ringing, he looked at Ron and Hermione and said the first thing that came to mind. "Sod the war. I can't do this without you."

From the doorway, Remus made a noise of protest, and Sirius stiffened. "Harry, you...really, you don't mean that..." Harry looked him in the eyes, and he broke off in dismay.

Turning back to Hermione, Harry said quietly, "You've told me for months that you'd stay with me no matter what, that you chose to be my friends no matter what it might cost. Well, I've made my choice too: you're not dying in this war if I can prevent it. No matter what I have to do. I've realized...I guess..." he took a deep breath. "I'd rather die than...than let you..."

Ron and Hermione looked mutely at Sirius and Remus, but no one seemed able to come up with a thing to say. Even if they had, it wouldn't have made much difference to Harry.

_I've made my choice._

* * *

 

"Of all the thoughtless, reckless teenagers I have ever had the misfortune to be in charge of, Potter, YOU are the worst!" Professor Snape stormed at him in Occlumency the following night. Harry had told Snape what he'd told his friends, but unlike his friends, Professor Snape wasn't having any trouble coming up with things to say. "I begin to wonder if the DarkLord's possession attemptshave indeed addled your brains. Are you completely INCAPABLE of comprehending your importance in this war?"

Harry leaned against the wall throughout Snape's tirade and found himself, incredibly, fighting the urge to smile. He'd had this same conversation over and over in varying forms for the past day since getting back from Hermione's house, interspersed with fits of hysterics from Mrs. Granger, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Tonks, Ginny, and Dobby.

All of them had questioned Harry's sanity, but it was Snape who was being the most eloquent about it. But to the intense frustration of all concerned, Harry was still refusing to budge.

"Do you recall NOTHING of what we discussed over the holidays!" Snape was currently bellowing. Harry nodded. "Then why do you REFUSE to accept—"

"I HAVE accepted it!" Harry said, raising his voice over Snape's. "I know, all right? I know I'm the one who has to win this. You don't have to keep reminding me."

"And yet," the Potions Master fumed, "you risked your life—bloody near LOST it—for the Granger girl! Why!"

Harry sighed and paced away from the wall. "I know that...that...technically, I'm more important than they are." He turned and looked Snape in the eyes. "I just don't care."

"POTTER—"

"Do we have to keep having this conversation?" Harry demanded, exasperated. "You're not going to change my mind, sir!"

Snape spat a rude word and turned away, stalking furiously around the basement kitchen table. _Funny_ , Harry thought, _Snape_ _, Sirius, and I all pace when we're angry._ Remus tended to stand stock-still when he was upset. So did Ron. But Harry could never stand still when he was aggravated, and had seen Sirius stalking about in a foul mood often enough to recognize that Snape was doing the same thing.

He had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from grinning and agitating Snape further.

Snape's temper wound down at last, and he switched from ranting to lecturing. "Whatever your feelings regarding your friends, Potter, it should not have escaped your notice that Hermione Granger was being protected at the time by her mother. You need not have thrown yourself into the path of that curse." Harry opened his mouth to respond, then caught himself. Snape frowned at him. "What?"

"Nothing."

" _What_ , Potter?"

Snape stared so hard that Harry turned away, not wanting the Potions Master to manage to read his mind. (He still thought that Occlumency sounded and _felt_ like mind-reading.) Finally, he grumbled, "I was just thinking that would've been rather small consolation to Hermione."

A hand slammed into his shoulder and forcibly turned him around, and Snape's gaze bored into his. "So that's what it was about," Snape said, in quiet-yet-utterly-disgusted voice. "Your bloody saving people."

"It was NOT!" Harry shouted, shoving him away. "I just...I wasn't thinking about that."

"What _were_ you thinking?"

Now it was Harry who began pacing. "What does it matter?"

"It _matters_ , because we have the responsibility of keeping you alive." Snape stepped in front of him. "I saw your face; you knew _precisely_ what you were doing and what the cost would be. Why?"

"I don't know," Harry groaned. "Look, I wasn't trying to kill myself, I just...I didn't want her to...I couldn't..."

"She was protected."

"Her mum wasn't," Harry muttered. "I just didn't..." His throat tightened, to his horror, and he turned away.

Snape was silent for several moments. "I see," he said quietly. He almost sounded sympathetic, but Harry was too busy trying to control the burning in his eyes to pay more attention to it. "Potter, no matter what you or I or anyone else attempts to do, there will be casualties in this war. History, logic, and the simple odds promise it. You cannot take it upon yourself to deny what must be."

Harry stopped pacing and folded his arms against the clenching of his insides. "I know," he muttered. "I know I can't protect everyone. I just...right then...I could. So I did."

"But in your zeal to protect one, you may condemn us all. Remember that."

"I do," he sighed.

"Good. _Legilimens!_ "

Harry flinched under the barrage of memories and struggled to push Snape out. His head hurt, he wanted to sink into someplace dark and quiet—wait.

_Darkness..._

He imagined himself sinking down, down, down, into the dark...the images were receding...

"Potter."

Harry blinked. "Did it work?"

"In a manner of speaking. However, you did not expel me from your mind, merely pulled me with you into a place where I could not see your thoughts. That takes too long and would not imprison an accomplished Legilimens," Snape told him. "You must push me out."

"How!" Harry demanded in frustration.

Snape was untroubled. "You are making progress. Perhaps you should consider what you have just done—and do the opposite."

"What I've just..." Harry frowned to himself, replaying the move in his mind. "Oh..." _The opposite of down and in...up and out. The opposite of darkness..._ "Okay."

" _Legilimens!_ "

Harry squeezed his eyes closed and concentrated on wiping out the flow of memories in a blinding...burst...of... _LIGHT!_

Snape staggered backward, dropping his wand, blinking in a way that made Harry suspect he was seeing stars. But then he straightened, and Harry braced himself, concentrating with all his strength on _light_ , blinding white light, a wall of nothing in his mind that he could push _out_.

_"Legilimens!"_

_LIGHT!_

_"Legilimens!"_

_LIGHT!_

_"Legilimens!"_

_NOTHING BUT LIGHT..._

Snape lowered his wand and rubbed his eyes. "Interesting," he remarked.

"What, sir?" Harry asked, grinning.

"Most Occlumens use darkness as their block. However, light seems to work best for you, and I see no reason to change it."

"Meaning I've got it?" Harry pressed.

Snape shot him a withering look. "Yes, Potter, you have established a viable method of Occlumency. However, I remind you that against the Dark Lord, you will be facing an attack of considerable power. There will be no time to brace yourself, you will be wandless, and most likely facing other spells designed to weaken you. Your ability to close your mind must be without weakness."

"How strong is Voldemort's attack likely to be?" Harry asked, frankly curious.

With a faint grimace, Snape muttered, "I have never been subjected to the full power of his Legilimency skill, but from what I have seen...it is extremely painful."

Harry frowned. "Are you attacking me with full power during practice? It doesn't hurt."

Snape shook his head. "No. I have never attempted to Legilimize anyone to the limits of my abilities."

"Maybe you ought to," Harry suggested. "I'd like to have at least some idea of what I'm really up against."

"There are risks to that," said Snape.

"There's a bigger risk to my getting caught by Voldemort unprepared," Harry pointed out.

"True," Snape muttered, studying the wall. At length, he looked at Harry and said, "I agree it might be wise for you to be forewarned in this manner. But given the risk, I want you to summon your godfather."

"Sirius?" Harry said in surprise.

"If only to forewarn him that I am not harming you out of some sadistic motivation," Snape said dryly. "You might also see if any Aurors are present. I believe they use a Potion at the Ministry that mitigates the effects of a severe mental attack."

Harry nodded. "All right then. Should I go now?"

"If you are determined to try this, yes." Snape sat down at the table, and Harry hurried up the stairs.

It didn't take him long to find Sirius and explain what they were going to do. Sirius was less than enthusiastic about the prospect, but agreed to come back with Harry. They ran into Remus and Tonks on the way to the basement. "Oh, Tonks, Professor Snape said something about a Potion that Aurors use for people who've been Legilimized."

"He's hitting you that hard?" Tonks exclaimed. "That's dangerous!"

"Just this once. I asked him to," Harry explained. "I think I'd better see for myself what's coming. Voldemort'll probably hit me with everything he has."

Tonks pulled a face. "True. I can get you some, in that case. I'll pop down to the Ministry."

"I'll wait for you here," Remus said to her.

Sirius nodded to Tonks. "Come on, Harry." He led the way back to the basement.

Snape sneered at Sirius as they came through the door. "Potter's explained this little experiment to you?"

Sirius nodded curtly. "Get on with it, then."

With a dry nod, Snape rose from behind the table and came around to face Harry. "Stand back," he told Sirius. Harry could see Sirius gritting his teeth as he did so, and tried to give him a reassuring smile. "Potter, take the time to prepare yourself completely. This will be the most violent mental attack you've ever faced."

"Right." Harry closed his eyes. _Light...bright...LIGHT...no other thoughts...no feelings...lightlightlight..._ He waited until he was sure that if he opened his eyes he'd still see light, and said, "Ready."

"Very well."

Then the front of Harry's head ripped open.

He never heard Snape say "Legilimens," all he knew was that a ripping, searing pain tore into the front of his skull as if someone had just stabbed it with a huge metal spike. He flew backward, screaming, clutching his forehead, unaware of anything except agony. Color and vaguely familiar sensation erupted in front of his eyes, and he was powerless to stop it.

It wasn't until his ears stopped ringing and he could concentrate on something other than the agony in his head that he became aware of his surroundings. He was cradled against someone's chest, and though he thought he could hear again, the room was full of noise. Someone was yelling—him? No, someone else—several people. He was being jostled about, and he groaned in protest, still holding his head, but no one seemed to hear him.

"I said back off, you bloody bastard!"

"Get a grip on yourself, Black—"

"These lessons are over!"

"Sirius, why the hell didn't you wait for us?"

"You didn't say to wait—"

"Will you let her touch him, damn it!"

"What is that?"

"The Mind Healing draught—Sirius, let _go!_ "

He was jolted, then dropped, someone caught him, and there was a scuffle. "Stop it!"

"Black, I'm warning you—"

"Let _go_ of me, Remus!"

"Damn it, Sirius, that's _enough!_ "

Closer by, Harry was aware of someone pressing a bottle to his lips, whispering something in his ear. Bloody hell, the noise was killing his head! He finally managed to open his mouth and let a rather tasteless liquid flow in, and swallowed.

Ah, that was better. A cool sensation crept into his forehead, and he was vaguely aware of someone massaging his temples. "A little more, Harry. Hang on." He swallowed, and the pain gradually receded to a tolerable level.

"Bloody...hell..."

"I imagine that did hurt a bit! How's it feel now?"

Harry let his eyes open a tad, wincing at the light. "Tonks?"

She nodded. "Feel all right? Know your own name?"

"Uh-huh," he grunted, trying to think over the ruckus in the background. "What's going on?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, wait a moment. _QUIET!_ " Tonk screeched, causing Harry to clap his hands over his ears in protest.

But it worked, the other shouting voices in the room abruptly stopped.

Tonks sighed theatrically. "Much better. Harry?"

He gingerly uncovered his ears. "Warn me next time you do that."

"Sorry," she said, sounding unrepentant. "But with luck I won't have to again." She glared at the figures behind them, and Harry blinked.

Remus appeared to be holding Sirius back, who looked inches away from flying into a duel with Snape. Both men had their wands out and were snarling at each other.

"If you can't stand it, Black—"

"You bloody stay away from Harry, you—"

"Sirius!" Harry yelled, and staggered to his feet, wincing as his head protested. "It's all right! He warned me it would hurt!"

"Hurt!" Sirius wrenched away from Remus and pointed accusingly at Snape. "He could have bloody torn your brain open!"

"So could Voldemort!" Harry insisted. "I have to know what I'm up against—Sirius, I _asked_ him to," he said as his godfather started to protest.

Remus quickly moved between Snape and Sirius, and Sirius glared furiously at him. "You're being unreasonable," Remus said.

Sirius growled at Snape, then snapped at Remus. "Fine. Since you apparently have everything under control, you don't need me." He stalked toward the door.

"Sirius, wait!" Harry started after him, but Tonks caught his arm.

"Slow down there, Harry, you'll faint."

"I agree, Potter, you should sit down."

"But I—"

"Harry, _sit!_ " Remus and Tonks steered him to the table.

Harry did, massaging his temples, but kept glancing at the kitchen door. Remus avoided both his gaze and Tonks's, and she gave Harry a helpless shrug. Snape was inspecting the dregs of the Mind Healing Potion.

"I should duplicate this formula so we have a supply on hand."

Grateful to break the tension, Tonks rose and began listing the ingredients she knew. Harry tried to listen to them, or think about how he'd deal with Voldemort attacking that hard, but he couldn't concentrate.


	37. Holiday's End

The next day, Harry was plagued by a nagging headache that even a strong potion couldn't completely alleviate, and Grimmauld Place was plagued by a gloomy atmosphere as glum as Harry's first summer there.

He wasn't the only one who felt it either; wandless magic lessons were fraught with tension. His friends were subdued. They kept sending nervous glances between each other, Harry, and Remus and Sirius.

Their two teachers, the last of the legendary Marauders, had not met each others' eyes all day except to glare. What words they exchanged were curt and sharp, with a poorly-maintained effort at civility.

Hermione was desperately flipping the pages of a book on wandless magic that she'd found in the Black library. She was tapping a charmed fountain pen she'd been making notes with feverishly against the binding. "Sirius," she blurted. "It says here that a wandless wizard can direct a lumos-like light out of his hand strong enough to blind his opponent. Could we learn this?"

Sirius gave her a forced smile. "It might be possible. More complicated than a simple lumos, but we could probably figure it out. That is," he glanced sideways at Remus, "if your _Professor_ approves."

No one missed the bitter edge in his voice.

Ginny hastily said, "We, ah, we'd have to find a way not to blind ourselves."

"Or anyone else!" Ron added.

Remus gave a stiff nod. "Well, we'd start with a standard lumos," he said tightly. "After all, you'll need to be sure you can produce that before you try blinding people."

He was staring straight ahead, but Sirius bristled. Harry's headache flared, and his jaw was clenched so tightly that it hurt. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening

"It'd probably work best at close range," said Hermione. The words ended in a nervous squeak.

"True," Sirius growled, no longer looking at her. "And there'd be less risk of blinding anyone else that way." He closed his eyes suddenly and took a deep breath. "Maybe we could combine two charms: a lumos forward and a nox behind to block it."

"Good idea!" Hermione chirped.

"No," Remus said. "It's not. The charms would have to be simultaneous or the nox won't protect you. And we don't even know that a lumos can be done wandlessly, let alone both."

"Perhaps if we _tried_..." Sirius practically snarled.

Harry felt like someone was twisting his stomach into a knot. His fists were clenched so tight his fingernails were digging into his palms. Ron was watching.

"It's in the book," Hermione whimpered.

Remus gave her a thin smile. "There are lots of things in the Black family books, but I'd council a little _caution_ before trying any of them."

Someone caught their breath sharply, and Hermione quickly put the book and pen down on the table.

Through clenched teeth, Sirius muttered, "Caution, my arse."

The pen began to vibrate its way across the table. Hermione snatched it up, and she and Ron exchanged a look of panic.

"We could use dummies!" Ginny exclaimed. "Or...or the mirror," she held out a hand mirror, "to reflect...you know..."

"Yeah!" Ron grabbed the book, patting it as though he was sure it could be trusted. "Sirius, don't you think—"

Remus's hard voice cut him off like the crack of a whip. "No. He doesn't."

Sirius shot to his feet, his eyes blazing, and Remus was on his feet only a second after. Both their fists were clenched.

His face white, Sirius roared, "I know what you're really about!"

Remus shot back, "You don't know—"

CRASH! The mirror in Ginny's hand exploded, the glass shards flying across the room and scattering upon the floor at Remus and Sirius's feet. Before they could react, Harry was leaping to his feet, an unearthly rage in his eyes, and the two men found themselves slammed backwards against the wall. They couldn't have moved even if they'd had the wits to.

" _STOP IT!_ "

Harry had screamed so hard that the windows rattled. He took several gasping breaths. His entire body was shaking. In a voice gone hoarse from the force of his cry, and his emotions, he said, "You're tearing me apart."

He took a stumbling step backward, then turned and fled the room. Remus and Sirius stared after him, their mouths open in identical expessions of horror.

Ginny's eyes were full of tears, but her voice was scathing. "Well. You've gone and done it now."

Sirius's knees buckled and he sagged on the arm of the sofa next to him. "Oh my god, Remus..." he murmured.

Remus leaned back against the wall and put a hand over his face. "What've we done?" Blinking rapidly, he held out a hand and pulled the trembling Sirius to his feet, and they started toward the door.

But the door opened in front of them to reveal a thoroughly irate Molly Weasley. Folding her arms determinedly, she declared, "Neither one of you is going anywhere near Harry until we've talked."

Sirius and Remus blinked. One of the twins muttered, "Good show, Mum."

Not taking her eyes off the two men, Molly pointed imperiously at the sofa. "You sit yourselves down."

Without a word of protest, they obeyed. Molly closed the door behind her and came to stand directly in front of them. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins got up and clustered around her, all pinning Remus and Sirius with their accusing gazes.

The men were bracing themselves for a tirade, but it was in a quiet voice that Molly delivered the most devastating question they'd ever been asked.

"Do you have _any_ idea how badly you've hurt that boy?"

Remus shuddered violently, and Sirius made an attempt to rise. "I have to go to him."

Molly's response left no room for argument. "You're not moving, Sirius Black, until you two have resolved this." Sirius sank back again and put his face in his hands.

After a long silence, Remus spoke. "Severus said this would happen."

Startled, Sirius looked at him. "Snape?"

Remus nodded dully. "He said I wouldn't be able to handle Harry having his godfather back." With a weak smile, he reached out and touched Sirius on the arm. "I was so glad to have you back myself that I didn't believe him. We all thought things would go back to how they were. I know that's what you wanted; I thought that's what Harry wanted. I tried, Sirius! I swear, I did. You're his godfather; it's your right. But for six months, he's been my whole life. I can't just step away now as if that never happened."

Sirius had his face in his hands again. Without looking up, he grabbed Remus's shoulder. "It wasn't like Azkaban. At least there, I knew time was passing. But those six months are gone. I never had them. So many things, so many people have changed, and I can't account for any of it. It just doesn't make sense. I should have realized...you and Harry...it's what I asked of you, after all, and you did it. I've had so many people take so much from me...Wormtail, the Order, our whole side. I guess I've come to expect betrayals. When I thought you were trying to take Harry, I just panicked."

"I've never betrayed you," said Remus, "and I never will. With Harry, I just...when we disagreed, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I wasn't trying to undermine you...I guess I just thought I knew better than you."

Sirius sighed heavily. "Hell, you probably do."

"No," Remus said firmly. "I worry too much. I don't make him happy like you do. Besides, I'm a werewolf. He's better off with you."

Sirius let off a bark of dry laughter. "Bollocks, Remus. You being a werewolf is the least of anyone's worries, considering all the ways my stupidity could get him killed."

From behind Mrs. Weasley, Hermione piped up timidly. "Well...Sirius...maybe the firecall to Gryffindor Tower wasn't a very good idea."

Sirius and Remus both winced. "I know," Sirius muttered. "That's been brought to my attention."

Mrs. Weasley broke in matter-of-factly. "Both of you have things to offer. And he _needs_ both of you."

"And he's been hurt enough," added Ron.

"Yes, I think we've figured that out, "said Remus.

* * *

 

Harry was sitting on the floor of Mrs. Black's room, leaning back against the bed. Every so often, Buckbeak would lean over and nuzzle his hair. He was reaching up absently to pat the hippogriff when the door opened. He froze.

Remus and Sirius stood in the doorway for a moment. Harry couldn't move. They walked silently over and sat down on either side of him. Remus gave him a sheepish grin, then lightly ruffled his hair as Sirius put an arm around him.

Harry let out his breath in an intense sigh of relief. He looked at Sirius, then at Remus and shook his head. "You two..."

Sirius lifted his hand off Harry's shoulder to give Remus a playful swat. "We three."

* * *

 

There was a markedly different atmosphere in the main parlor after dinner. Harry was curled up on the sofa with his feet tucked under him, reading The Magic of Emotions and Instinct while leaning slightly against Remus. Sirius was on his other side, draped over the edge of the sofa listening to the twins and Percy working on the latest line of Weasley products.

"If you two insist on using dragon's liver, you'll break your Gringott's account! It costs too much and Runespoor gizzards work just as well."

"They decay too fast, Perce. It'll lose its punch!"

"Oh, go on, Fred. Anything new you release flies right off the shelves. It won't have time to decay."

Ron and Hermione were in chairs on opposite sides of the room, painstakingly using wandless magic to pass a chess piece between them. Ron's face was screwed up in concentration as the little knight wobbled its way through the air towards Hermione, passing over the heads of Ginny, Bill, and Charlie, who were playing poker in front of the fire.

Observing the chess knight's shaky progress, Remus remarked, "You know, Ron, it's possible to concentrate _too_ hard."

Without taking his eyes off the knight, Ron replied, "I...can't...help it!"

Harry looked up from his book and grinned. The chess piece began to spin wildly in place, squealing in protest. Everyone stared in surprise as the little knight sailed in an arc away from Ron and Hermione – straight into Harry's waiting hand.

Bill whistled appreciatively, and Remus said, "Good! That's good!"

"Show-off, "Ron grumbled without rancor. Hermione giggled. "What're you going to do, pelt Voldemort with chess pieces?"

Harry laughed and made as if to lob the chess piece back at him, but Percy winced. "Ron!"

"What? Oh, knock it off, Percy. The name can't hurt you."

Percy looked less than convinced. "Still..."

Ginny pressed, "We've been saying Voldemort's," (Percy cringed) "name for months, and nothing bad has happened."

"Go on, Perce," urged the twins. "Just say it once! Voldemort!"

Percy shook his head vigorously. "No, you lot can be brave. I don't want to."

"Just say it!" Ron joined in. "It gets easier, I promise! You just have to decide not to let it scare you anymore!"

"Well, maybe it's just easier for you than for me," Percy replied, and attempted to return to the twins' accounting papers, only to have the twins snatch them from his hands.

"Say it!" they insisted. "Vooollllldeeeeemooooort!"

Ron sprawled sideways in his armchair. "When I was trying to get used to it—that was last summer—I just started saying it to myself over and over until it got easier and I was sure nothing would happen."

"I remember," Hermione groaned. "'Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort' all over the house for three days!"

"But it worked," Ron protested.

"That's right!" said Ginny firmly. "And it'll work for you, Percy, all you have to do is believe! Go on!" She dropped her voice to a half-whisper. "Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort..."

"No!" Percy protested, but then the twins joined in.

"Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort..."

"Will you bloody knock off? I don't _want_ to—"

"Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort..."

And so Ginny, Bill, Charlie, and the twins pursued Percy right out of the parlor (Harry could hear them chasing him up the stairs,) all still chanting, "Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort," over Percy's furious shouts of denial.

Harry and Ron laughed as they returned the chess set to their room. "Do you have practice tonight?" Ron asked him.

"I don't think so," Harry said. "Snape and Tonks wanted me to take it easy on my head after last night."

"Can't believe you let him zap you like that," Ron muttered.

Harry shrugged. "I had to get an idea of what I was really up against—though I guess that wasn't the best way to go about it. We'll think of some other way to get ready for Voldemort."

In their room, Ron deposited the chess set in his trunk, then stood up, a troubled expression on his face. "Say, mate...can I ask you something?"

Harry blinked. "Sure."

"Well..." Ron's ears went red. "I was wondering...about what happened at Hermione's house, when you...when...I mean...about the Killing Curse."

"Oh." Harry shrugged and sat down on his bed. "You mean, what it was like?"

"Well, sort of." Ron sat down on his own bed, contemplating his feet. "I was wondering, whether you... _saw_ anything."

"Saw anything?" Harry repeated stupidly. "Uh...well...it was green. That's all I remember, really. Just green, and I felt all...tingly, afterward. Then I fainted," he joked weakly.

Ron mustered a weak smile and nodded. "Oh. I was just..." His ears darkened further.

Harry frowned. "What? Did you see something weird?"

"Well..." Ron drew his knees up to his chest and rocked absently on his bed. "You know the Curse rebounded on Goyle, right?"

"That's what I heard," Harry replied, still failing to see what Ron was getting at. "I guess I must have seen him when the light went away, but I don't really remember."

Ron nodded. "He just sort of...dropped. The Curse, it..." Abruptly he looked straight at Harry. "I did see something...weird. I didn't really know how you'd feel about it."

Harry's mouth went dry. "Go on," he mumbled.

"It's...uh...it's really weird, I mean, maybe I was just imagining..."

"Tell me," Harry said quietly, dropping his eyes.

Ron took a deep breath. "I could see you and Goyle, when he...when he threw the Curse. It was green, and...it went right at you. I remember thinking it was going to hit you right in the chest, but...it didn't." He cleared his throat. "It sort of...spread out...just a few inches in front of you, as if there was a pane of glass in front of you that stopped it." Harry looked up at him again, and Ron went on, "But it wasn't...just smooth, like glass. There was...a shape." Ron swallowed hard, and blurted out, "It was the shape of a person, a...a woman. She was only there for a second, it was like a flash, the Curse Light was all around you, and I saw her raise her hand like she was warning Goyle off, and the Curse rebounded back onto him. He fell, and she was gone."

Harry stared at the wall, his insides churning horribly.

_Mum?_

She'd been there again. Someone else had seen her again, but not Harry. Everyone kept seeing the shade of his mother except him!

"Mate?"

Ron was watching him nervously. Harry met his gaze and sighed. "It...I think it's because of the Pillar of Storgé. Anytime I'm in danger, these...shadows of my parents turn up." Ron sucked in his breath, and Harry nodded bitterly. "Only I never see them. She must've been right in front of me but I was blinded. It was the same in the Pillar chamber. I felt her but I didn't see her. I've never seen her." He tried and failed to keep an edge out of his voice.

"Bloody hell, mate," Ron murmured. "I'm...I'm sorry." Harry mustered a smile and shrugged to say it didn't matter. Ron awkwardly changed the subject. "Anyway, we've...got a lot of stuff to look forward to now. More practice with Remus...and Sirius. That's...good, isn't it?"

Harry recognized what his friend was trying to do, and felt a smile come more easily. "Yeah. Things are good."

* * *

 

And they were. The Easter holiday was over much too quickly. No one was especially enthusiastic about the prospect of taking the Knight Bus back to Hogwarts, and if there was one thing Harry and his friends had wished for, it was the chance to get out of Headquarters. So Remus and Sirius proposed that they go up early and spend the day in Hogsmeade.

"That's great!" Ginny said. "No one would expect us to be there today; they'll think we're Flooing back as usual."

"Will it be safe for Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Remus will be with you," said Sirius.

"Say hello to the twins and Percy for us," said Mrs. Weasley, giving each of them a kiss on the cheek. "They're at Zonko's this afternoon—and _do_ remind them not to blow anything up!"

Ron laughed, "We'll do our best."

Sirius hugged Harry and ruffled his hair. "Look after yourself."

"You too," Harry told him. "You'll firecall Remus and the rest of us, right?"

"Sure," Sirius assured him. "It's all arranged. Don't forget to practice."

"I won't!"

"Come _on,_ Harry!" Ron urged from the doorway. "You haven't seen the new Nimbus at the Quidditch supply..."

Sirius laughed and gave him a shove. "Off with you. Have fun!"

"Bye, Sirius!"

"Bye, Hermione, bye, Ron! Keep an eye on Harry for me!"

* * *

 

Mrs. Weasley sent their trunks through the Floo to Hogwarts, Remus arranged a portkey to Hogsmeade with the help of Hagrid, and they arrived near the Shrieking Shack. "Oh, look at that, I think I visited it once or twice..."

Everyone laughed. "You know, I don't think it's quite so scary anymore, now that we know what was _really_ making all the noise," said Ron.

Remus shrugged. "Sorry. So where are you going?"

"Quidditch supply store!"

"Book store!"

"Zonko's!"

"Honeydukes!"

"You four are going to run me ragged, aren't you?"

"That's the plan, Remus! Come on!"

They didn't quite run Remus ragged, but they had almost as much fun at Hogsmeade as they had third year, when it all had been new and exciting. The village wasn't very busy, since the Hogwarts Express hadn't arrived at the station yet, and no one expected to see Harry Potter in town. It was a chilly afternoon, even for April, so Harry kept the hood of his school cloak up, and hardly anyone looked at him twice.

He and Ron and Ginny could have spent half of the afternoon at the Quidditch supply store, admiring the new models of broomsticks that Harry hadn't seen due to his confinement at Hogwarts, but Hermione finally dragged them out for a reasonably brief trip to the bookstore. They hit Honeydukes before going to Zonko's so they'd have some presents to bring Percy and the twins.

Mr. Zonko let them in cheerfully and slapped a sign on the front door that read **_Closed for Inventory_**. "So, 'ow are yeh, Harry?"

"I'm fine, thanks," said Harry, admiring the new Puffer Powders that the twins had just released. ("We got the idea from you blowing up your aunt!" they'd told him.) "How's business?"

"Better 'n ever, thanks to this lot," said Mr. Zonko, indicating the twins and Percy. "Our twins got the gift fer laughter business, and their brother 'ere keeps 'em on schedule. Good 'ead on 'is shoulders, that one!"

Percy blushed, and Harry grinned. It made him look like Ron. "What can I say," Percy said. "If someone didn't keep them in line, they'd bankrupt themselves!"

"Codswallop!" retorted one of the twins, unpacking Skiving Snackboxes.

"That's an awful lot of those, isn't it, Fred?" Ginny asked.

"Definitely not, they're one of the best sellers," said Percy. "And school's back from a holiday—trust me, half the student body'll be stopping by to replenish their supply today!"

"Oh. Good point. I'll take three."

George grabbed Percy around the neck and gave him a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek. "What'd we do without this brilliant lad, eh, Fred?"

"Gaaah! Bloody get off me!"

* * *

 

By late afternoon, Remus dragged Harry and his friends out of Zonko's, and they said their goodbyes to Percy and the twins. "The train will be back any minute. I'd rather we were back at Hogwarts beforehand."

They had cut it rather close, and were hurrying back up the road to Hogwarts when they heard the train's whistle at the station. "That's funny , it sounds like it's a little late," Hermione mused, checking her watch.

Ron glanced over his shoulder at the station, where the students could be seen disembarking. "Looks perfectly normal." He shrugged, and they kept walking.

Seconds later, there was a loud _BOOM_ , and Harry felt the concussive force of a powerful blast shock across his skin. They all whirled around to see a belch of flame and a mushroom of smoke coming from the engine of the Hogwarts Express. "Bloody hell!" Ron yelled over a louder blast, and the sounds of many voices screaming reached their ears. From their vantage point, Hogsmeade Station looked like a disturbed ant's nest.

Remus snatched out his wand, "Get back to Hogwarts, all of you!"

"No, Remus!" Harry grabbed his arm without thinking. "You can't—we can't just—"

Remus shot Harry an anxious glance, "Harry, you know you..."

Ginny screamed, "It's the twins!" They followed her pointed finger to three red heads amid the mass of panicked students, these running _in_ to the fray rather than out.

Ron yelled and started down the path again, but Remus caught both him and Ginny by the arms. "Listen to me! You four will come down to help get the students up the road inside the wards. You will stay with me and follow my instructions, is that clear?"

Wide-eyed, breathing hard in alarm, the four of them nodded. Remus set off at a run, and they followed him. "Guess we're about to find out how well that training really worked," Hermione said breathlessly.

"Death Eaters," Harry said, pointing at the black robes amid the running figures and flashing curses. He felt strangely calm. But he obeyed Remus and stayed behind the werewolf, keeping his wand ready. He found himself running through the curses that might be useful in his mind.

Remus stopped them a hundred yards or so from the chaos. "I'll be sending students toward you. Keep them moving up the road to Hogwarts, as fast as they can. If Death Eaters get too close, protect yourselves and _get back._ " Then before any of them could reply, he was running full-tilt into the chaos.

Harry quickly lost sight of Remus, but heard his voice as he shouted at students to make for Hogwarts. Then there was a flood of Hogwarts robes and panicked students racing up the road toward him. He hurried forward, pushing them along. "Come on! Keep going! Get inside the wards!"

A group of Hufflepuff first years came stumbling up, half-carrying a Ravenclaw who'd been hit with a Bone-Breaking Hex in the foot. Harry's mind was whirling so fast that it took two tries to perform a Hover Charm on the sobbing girl, but he got them moving again and sent them up the road. _We need to learn to conjure stretchers in DA_ , he thought dazedly.

Hermione at least seemed to know how to conjure bandages, and was pressing rolls of them into the hands of Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas as they carried Susan Bones up the road, keeping pressure on her badly slashed leg. "Someone's using _Diffindio_ ," Ron yelled to Harry.

Harry nodded distractedly, looking past the flood of students at the station, where a battle was now in full swing. Hogwarts teachers, wizards and witches from Hogsmeade, older students, and Death Eaters were firing off curses at each other, setting the station and train cars and abandoned luggage on fire. He spotted the twins at one point, working back-to-back around each other on the departure platform. Thank heavens, they seemed okay. He couldn't see Percy, but the twins didn't appear worried, just focused on fighting.

Speaking of which, a curse impacted the ground a few yards in front of Harry, and he jumped. There was a Death Eater, dodging around trees, buildings, and panicked people, unmistakably making his way toward the students on the road. Adrenaline surged through Harry like a prickle of electricity, and he dropped into a crouch, bringing his wand to bear.

Ron had seen it too, and started throwing shields in front of the fleeing students nearest the black robed figure. Harry gritted his teeth, trying to take aim without risking hitting any students, but the Death Eater wasn't about to make himself a clear target, and was ducking and dodging through the crowd, hexing people right and left.

 _No dangerous curses then, in this crowd,_ he thought grimly, and shouted, _"STUPEFY!"_

He missed, and the Death Eater ducked, but Ron and Ginny joined him, throwing a barrage of Stunners, some of which hit students, but finally brought the dark wizard down.

"Harry!" Neville Longbottom appeared out of the mob, his lip split, either from a hex or stray elbow, and followed Harry toward the Death Eater. "There's at least a dozen or so more in Hogsmeade! They're burning buildings!"

"Give me a hand," Harry said, and Neville joined him without hesitating. He handed Neville the Death Eater's wand, putting the dark wizard in a Body Bind for good measure. The face behind the mask didn't look familiar. "Hold onto the wand and give it to a teacher or an Auror, if you find one. Professor Lupin says to get all the students inside the wards as quick as we can!"

"Right!" Neville stuck the other wand in his pants pocket and jogged away.

"Harry, have you seen Ron and Ginny?" shouted a familiar voice.

Harry waved Percy over and pointed up the road. "They're there, getting everyone to Hogwarts."

"Good show," Percy panted. "They're moving further into Hogsmeade, but I saw some Apparating out. I think we're okay." He wiped sweat and grime off his forehead and muttered, "Bloody hell. I think there's some students dead back there."

Harry winced. The noise of the battle was quieting, even if there were still students screaming and crying from panic as they made their way up the road. "Can you conjure some ropes here?" he asked, gesturing to the Petrified Death Eater.

"Yeah." Percy did so. "The Aurors'll have a few questions for him."

"That's what I figured. There, come on!" Harry and Percy ran back to the crowd, spotting the twins in its midst, hurrying students along.

Fred was carrying Padma Patil with a sobbing Parvati stumbling along behind him when they reached Harry and Percy. "Concussion, I think. She's breathing all right," said George. "Keep 'em moving, a couple of Death Eaters may have doubled back."

"Here, I've got her," said Terry Boot, and he took Padma from Fred as Anthony Goldstein urged Parvati along with them up the road.

Harry and Percy joined the twins scanning the station and the Hogsmeade buildings. Thick clouds of smoke were rising from the village and the train station. "I don't see anyone," muttered Fred.

A curse sizzled just past Harry's neck, and he jerked to one side with a shout. They spun around and spotted two black-robed figures emerging from the trees. "Bugger, they got around us!" Percy yelled, and they charged forward to get between the dark wizards and fleeing students.

"SHIELDS!" Harry roared, and conjured the strongest, largest one he could, hearing his friends and DA members in the crowd doing the same.

The next volley of curses from the Death Eaters—there were three that had slipped through the trees to reach them—bounced harmlessly off the shields, and the cover gave Harry a chance to strike back. _"FERITO!"_

The blast of the curse threw one of the Death Eaters aside, but the other two dove for cover and rolled away from the worst of it, throwing Killing Curses as they righted themselves.

"Watch out!" Students ducked and scattered, screaming in terror, but Harry's dazed mind registered with a surge of relief that both jets of green light fizzled away without hitting anything.

Fred and George were moving in front of Ron and Ginny, conjuring Shields while Percy was firing off curse after curse at the attackers. The one who'd been knocked down by Harry's Concussive Curse never managed to get up before a Stunner followed by someone else's Body Bind kept him down, and the other two had been driven apart as students began throwing hexes at the black robes.

 _"Pressum!"_ Harry flattened the one nearest Hogsmeade station, and threw a Stunner at him for good measure before tearing up the road with the twins at his heels after the third.

The flow of frightened students was down to a trickle, and if they could just keep that last Death Eater occupied, everyone still here could reach safety. "Watch that one!" yelled Ron, and Hermione threw an _Impedimenta_ at him.

It struck home, slowing the Death Eater down, but he rolled back down the hill toward the trees, obviously aiming to use the cover to his advantage. Harry aimed for his head and shouted, _"Plaga!"_ but his target ducked so the hit was only glancing, causing the mask to fly off his face.

 _Her_ face.

Bellatrix Lestrange rolled to her feet, wiping a streak of blood away from her eyes as her lips curled with rage, and took dead aim at Harry. _"Perfringo!"_ she screamed, and Harry conjured his strongest shield.

The hex was still enough to knock him off his feet, and he heard a Stunner from Ron sail over his head. Bellatrix dodged it and threw several Bone-Breaking Curses at random into the crowd of students, striking home at least twice, judging by the screams of pain and sounds of people falling to the ground. Fury surged through Harry's insides, making him feel as though he were on fire, and he shot a Bone-Breaker of his own at her.

She dodged it, but lost her balance and fell, and Harry took that moment to scream at the bystanders, "Get out of here! All of you! GET OUT OF HERE!"

There was a sizzling roar from somewhere in Hogsmeade as a building exploded, and Harry concentrated on shielding the last few students as they fled up the hill. Just over that hill, they'd be inside the wards, safe from Lestrange. Percy was conjuring stretchers for the three students who'd been hit by curses on the road, and uninjured students were seizing them and sprinting for safety. "Go, go, go!" Harry could hear them shouting.

Fred and George materialized on either side of him, and they began throwing every hex they could think of at Bellatrix, driving her backwards. They were just starting to think they had her when another curse caught Fred in the shoulder. "Aah! Bloody—"

"Careful!" Hermione shrieked, throwing a Shield in front of them as two more Death Eaters came charging up from the station.

Muttering a dirty word that he'd learned from Sirius on New Year's Eve, Harry turned to deal with the new arrivals, George next to him, while Fred stumbled back, swearing and cradling his arm. They took down one of the Death Eaters with Hermione's help, and the other broke and ran toward the trees.

And then...

_"George!"_

Percy slammed into George, knocking his younger brother sideways into Harry—which, fortunately, got Harry out of the path of a Slashing Hex. He stunned the other Death Eater and straightened, trying to catch himself and George, when he spotted Bellatrix out of the corner of his eye.

She swept her wand in a sharp, slashing movement, and screamed, _"QUASSIO!"_

A jet of what looked like purple flame erupted from the wand and blazed through the spring air, striking Percy directly in the chest.

His eyes lost focus, and he did little more than gasp before he collapsed. His glasses flew off as he hit the ground, his eyes closed, his face colorless except for a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.

From somewhere behind Harry, Ginny screamed. So did Ron. His mind had frozen in shock, and he hesitated too long, which gave Bellatrix time to take aim at him.

_"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

Harry stiffened in panic at the sight of that green light, his eyes on Bellatrix as he braced himself. But strangely, the light was _behind_ her, silhouetting her body, instead of coming towards him. She suddenly went rigid in surprise, her mouth open, her body was framed by green light.

And then her eyes went blank, and she fell. As her body hit the ground, lifeless, the figure standing behind her was revealed, standing tall with a hard, determined look on his face.

Harry didn't move, his mind feeling too sluggish to comprehend what had just happened. Near him, Ron and Ginny had frozen where they were kneeling over Percy's still form, and Hermione's hands were over her mouth.

"Neville..."

Neville lowered his wand, glaring at Bellatrix Lestrange's body for a moment before looking at them. "She's finally stopped."

"I...I..." Hermione was blinking rapidly as if trying to make her mind work. She still looked more coherent than Harry felt. "The...Neville, the Aurors..."

Neville frowned, as the ramifications of what he'd just done began to occur to him, but then Harry snapped out of his daze. "Run."

Neville blinked. "What?"

"Get out of here. Leave your wand and get back to Hogwarts, fast. We'll say we didn't see you." Harry knew, somewhere in the jumble of shocked thoughts in his mind, what he was telling Neville to do, but it was like a single sane thing in all the insanity: Neville couldn't be caught for this. "Neville, GO!"

Looking again more like the Neville Harry knew from his early years at Hogwarts, rather than the one who'd finally taken his complete revenge on Bellatrix Lestrange, Neville dropped his wand on the ground and turned and ran up the road.

Shaking slightly, Harry turned to his friends. Ginny was crying, her eyes wide and frightened. "We need a Healer right now!" she sobbed, bending over Percy.

* * *

 

After finding some Aurors and getting them to take Percy to Madam Pomfrey, Harry was about to follow when he heard a familiar voice calling him from the trees. "Harry?"

Harry drew his wand, then relaxed. "Neville, what are you doing here? I told you to go!"

"I watched; they've got the wand. They'll be too busy securing everything to worry about finding out who threw the curse," Neville said solemnly.

"Speaking of secure, we need to get out of here," said Harry. "Professor Lupin'll be waiting for me."

They walked up the hill in silence for awhile, scanning their surroundings for any signs of Death Eaters, and Neville muttered, "You think I'm a murderer, don't you?"

Harry glanced sideways at him, and said, "No."

"Really?" Neville sounded surprised. "I thought the others did."

"Dunno if they do," Harry sighed, rubbing his aching forehead as he paused to check out a clump of bushes. "But I don't."

"Why not?"

"Because...I think I'd have done the same thing, given half the chance. She had to be stopped." Harry sighed. "She'd have killed me then if you hadn't got her first," he went on. He couldn't look Neville in the face for some reason, but he went on, "And if anybody had a reason, or...I guess...the right...it was you."

"It's weird...I knew what I was doing. I knew why, I knew...you know, that wasn't my wand." Harry blinked, and looked at him at last. Neville looked puzzled, as though trying to explain everything to himself even as he was explaining it to Harry. "I used that Death Eater's wand. I just...I heard people screaming and knew there was trouble, but when I saw her...I just pulled the other wand out and..." he shrugged. "I did it. What does that mean?"

Harry sighed. "You know...something happened over Christmas...I had...my wandless magic...I killed something—someone," he corrected himself. Neville listened silently. "A house elf. It was an accident, but...at the time, I wanted to hurt him. I didn't know what it meant after it...happened. I didn't know what I was. I guess I still don't."

"Did you..." Neville bit his lip hesitantly. "Do you ever feel like this...all this...war, is sort of... _changing_ people? Changing you? Making you into something?"

"And I don't know what it is, or whether it's good or bad. Yeah," Harry replied. "Hermione said war does that to people."

"Hermione says a lot of things."

Harry laughed weakly, without much humor. "Nothing makes sense. I don't miss...the elf. I'm glad Lestrange is dead—really glad, but..."

"Yeah. But." Neville sighed. He shook his head. "You always seem to have answers. I guess I thought..."

"Yeah," Harry mumbled. His mind still felt so sluggish. "Sorry."

"Yeah. Me too."

* * *

 

Remus was waiting for Harry at the entrance. "Thank God, I'd started to wonder if you—never mind, you'd better come to the Hospital Wing."

"Is Percy okay?"

"I don't know much, just that it's bad, damn her," Remus growled as they hurried down the hall.

When they came into a private ward in the Hospital Wing, Harry was mildly surprised to see all the Weasleys were there. Bill had his arms around a white-faced Ginny, while Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall were speaking softly to Mr. Weasley. Professor McGonagall had clasped his hands in hers. Charlie was holding Mrs. Weasley, and the twins were clinging to each other. Hermione was holding Ron.

Percy was still unconscious. Harry heard only the faintest, shallow breathing from the middle Weasley son. Bellatrix Lestrange had hit him with that curse that Dolohov had tried to use on Hermione, and the other Death Eater had used on Fred. _Quassio._ So that was what it sounded like.

Mrs. Weasley glanced up, her face red and puffy with tears still falling, and gasped when she saw Harry. She pulled out of Charlie's grip and struggled to straighten up as Harry reached her. "Harry," she choked out into his chest. "Oh...Harry...oh..."

She clung to him so tight that Harry nearly gasped—his chest was still sore from running and yelling hexes—but he returned her embrace. Awkwardly at first, until he looked down at her face, screwed up as though she were suppressing a wail of anguish, and he recalled the times she had comforted him. That thought made him squeeze her harder, and she choked back a sob, but actually half-smiled through her tears, and he held on tighter still.

Looking past her at the shocked, horrified faces of her family, at the grim faces of Remus, Professor McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey, he understood why they were holding onto each other so tight. This just wasn't a moment to be gentle.

Ron had stumbled out of Hermione's grasp and came to Harry and Mrs. Weasley's side. She let Harry go and snatched Ron into her arms, as Harry rubbed his friend's back awkwardly. _He'll be okay, won't he?_ Harry wanted to ask, but the words were stuck in his throat.

Then Madam Pomfrey was touching his arm, and saying softly, "I must have you wait outside, Harry. Just the family right now."

Harry nodded dully, and Hermione came over to him, seizing his arm hard. He kept an arm around her as they walked out into the open wing and waited.

Hermione sat down right on the floor, half-dried tears still streaking her pale face, and Harry sat next to her, letting her lean on his shoulder as he rubbed her back. He didn't know what else to do.

They had no idea how much time passed. People moved out in the main hospital wing, but neither of them had the energy to look around, to go ask questions, or check on the condition of the rest of Hogwarts. It was all too much. And they might get news of Percy at any moment.

A click at the door made them both look up sluggishly, and they scrambled to their feet as Ron came stumbling out. He closed the door behind him, his movements slow and awkward, before turning to them. He looked fairly calm, so Hermione asked softly, "How is he, Ron?"

Ron seemed almost puzzled, as he searched for the proper words. Finally, in a barely audible voice, he breathed out, "He's gone."

Hermione sucked in her breath, and Harry just stared. _What?_

He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud, but Ron looked at him, his face dazed and lost, and repeated softly, "He's...gone. Percy. He...my brother's...dead—"

Ron's legs buckled as a look of utter devastation came over his face, and Harry and Hermione lunged forward. They caught him as he sagged to the ground, and Harry found himself with Ron's arms around his neck as his best friend's body began to shake with deep, wracking sobs. Hermione was trying in vain to stifle her own tears as she stroked Ron's hair, and Harry wrapped his arms around Ron and held on as tight as he could. Tighter. Tighter still.

This wasn't a moment to be gentle.


	38. Leave Taking

Six Hogwarts students had died in the attack on Hogsmeade Station. Two second year Hufflepuffs, Rose Zeller and Lydia Farrow, had been killed in the explosions on the train. Melanie Watson, a dorm-mate of Ginny's and younger sister of their Quidditch beater Lavinia, Harvey Nolan, a fourth-year Ravenclaw, and Jonathan Long, one of the Gryffindor Quidditch team's alternates, and a Slytherin named Michael Harris had died in the fighting. Four witches and five wizards from Hogsmeade had also died, along with thirteen Death Eaters including Bellatrix Lestrange.

And then there was Percy.

Harry never could remember the next few days very clearly. There were no classes for the first week, which left the students with far too little to do, so they all spent much of their time just sitting or wandering aimlessly. Ron and Ginny went home with their parents and remaining siblings, with the promise that Harry and Hermione would be allowed to leave for Percy's funeral.

Once or twice, the DA members who hadn't suffered deaths in their family attempted to get together to do some practicing. Hermione got ahold of a seventh-year Transfigurations textbook that included instructions on Conjuring, so they worked on conjuring stretchers and things like that for awhile, but nobody was very successful. Nobody could concentrate.

The school was so very quiet, quieter than it had been after the Quidditch game attack. Harry didn't see or hear anything from Peeves, and the portraits made little of their usual conversation as people walked by, except to occasionally inquire after a student's well-being. Soft sniffles and stifled sobs were frequently heard in the Great Hall during meals, and in common rooms and dormitories at night, and classmates spontaneously embracing in the halls was a frequent sight.

Harry and Hermione sat with Neville at the Gryffindor table for meals. One day, Harry found himself staring at the Head Table, and the few teachers still minding the school, and unexpectedly met the eyes of Snape. Hadn't it been Percy who had first told him, after being Sorted first year, who the Potions Professor was? Yes, it had. A pang of emotion, so intense that it was physically painful, went through him, and he understood all too well why so many of his classmates seemed to break down in tears without provocation. You never knew when the memories would hit.

 _Poor Percy._ Poor Percy the Prefect. Perfect Percy. Percy the prat—who'd Obliviated the Minister of Magic and thrown away his entire, beloved career to save Harry after feeling the love of his parents in the Pillar of Storgé. His poor parents. Poor Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who'd fought with Percy and cried over him and welcomed him home after all. Poor Mrs. Weasley. The Boggart had been right. Her worst fear had come true.

The afternoon of Percy's funeral, Harry and Hermione spent most of the time with their arms around one Weasley or another. It was Friday afternoon. They'd gone to Mellie Watson and Jonathan Long's funerals on Thursday, as had many of the other Gryffindors, and by now, Harry felt a weariness in his bones that couldn't be explained by any physical exertion.

Unless it was from holding onto people so tight.

When it was over, they all returned to Headquarters, for which Harry was immensely relieved, because he desperately wanted to see Sirius. He and Hermione had Ron perpetually stuck between them; sometimes it seemed that their presence was the only thing keeping him upright. Bill and Charlie were taking turns doing the same thing for Mrs. Weasley. The twins...they held onto each other, as always, but now stayed closer together than ever, joined at the hip, it sometimes seemed.

So when they arrived, Harry only had one arm to spare, but Sirius gave him a gratifyingly strong hug as they came through the door. He ushered them all to the dining room where the Order had set out a large amount of food—which nobody managed to make much of a dent in. Finally, they all gave up and went out into the parlor.

Harry and Hermione sat with Ron between them as usual, and with Sirius on Harry's other side. Tonks and Remus were trying, with limited success, to talk to the twins, when Moody came in. "Dumbledore's here."

Wearily, Bill scrubbed at his face, "He was at the funeral."

"He just needs a word with a few of us," said Moody quietly. He caught the eyes of several in the room, and Remus and Sirius exchanged glances.

Sirius patted Harry's shoulder. "I'll be back in a bit, okay?"

"What's going on?" Harry asked, sitting up even though he was hampered slightly by Ron leaning against him.

"Could be anything," Sirius muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Don't trouble yourself," he said, noticing Ron, and gave Harry a little wave as he followed Moody out the door. Bill and Charlie transferred Ginny to the spot on the sofa that Sirius had just vacated, next to Harry, and went out as well.

"Wonder what that's about," George mumbled dully.

"Who knows," Hermione sighed, and beckoned to the twins.

Truly, after all that had happened, none of them could muster the energy to wonder what this latest meeting was about, and when Sirius, Remus, and the others returned, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had managed to cram themselves and the twins all onto the sofa together. And there they stayed for the rest of the evening.

* * *

 

They were allowed to stay at Headquarters all weekend, and it wasn't until they were about to leave for Hogwarts again that they got an inkling of what the Order was up to.

As usual, they got their information from Mrs. Weasley's yelling.

They heard her voice before deciphering her words, and Fred remarked with a weary smile, "Glad to hear her sounding like herself again at last."

Sitting in the parlor reading Defense books during the latest Order meeting, they could clearly hear Mrs. Weasley bellowing at someone from the basement kitchen. "YOU ARE NOT—RISK LIKE—WE CAN'T—LOST ONE OF MY CHILDREN ALREADY, DAMMIT!"

Ron froze in the act of reaching for another book, and they all stared at each other. "What the _hell_..." George muttered.

"Got any Extendable Ears?" Ginny said quickly.

"Come on." They all scrambled for the door.

The Imperturbable Charm on the door had either worn off or been removed in the past year, and they all clearly heard the tail end of the conversation.

"Molly, please, try to be rational," one of the Order Aurors was saying. "We can't just stop the war effort in its tracks."

Mrs. Weasley sounded as if she was crying. "You are NOT sending any of my children on this bloody SUICIDE mission!"

Harry felt Ron stiffen beside him. Below them Bill was saying, "Mum, we can help with this—"

"I DON'T CARE! I _WILL NOT_ ALLOW IT! AND IF ALBUS BLOODY DUMBLEDORE THINKS THIS IS SUCH A GRAND IDEA, WHY HASN'T HE HAD THE DECENCY TO TELL ME FACE-TO-FACE WHERE HE'S PLANNING ON SENDING WHAT'S LEFT OF MY FAMILY—"

Someone began to sob, and the shouting stopped. "Dad! Dad, it's okay, Dad, don't!" Bill was saying.

"Oh!" Now Mrs. Weasley was crying. "Oh, Arthur, I'm so sorry!"

Their voices dropped to a murmured babble for several minutes, and Harry was aware of Ron huddled with his arms around his knees next to Hermione. So he put one arm around Ron and the other around Ginny while they waited for the Order to resume talking.

Eventually, they heard Charlie speaking. "Look, we're prepared to do whatever needs doing. But you lot are going to have to do the thinking right now."

Her voice ragged, Mrs. Weasley said, "Please, Alastor, I can't bear the thought of my boys—"

"Mum!" Bill said sharply. "This is our decision too. At the very least, we're going to need a curse-breaker to help with this, and if it gives us a chance to strike a major blow against those bastards, I'm not being left out!" Next to Harry, Ginny flinched.

Mrs. Weasley sobbed, but Charlie said, "He's right, Mum. They need us. They need us, or this will never end. If we lose this war, then...then...Percy...in vain," he managed to say.

Harry shuddered and felt several of his friends doing the same.

"Listen to me, Molly," Mad-Eye Moody was saying, in a surprisingly gentle voice. "We're planning this carefully. There's risk, yes. Lots of risk. There always is. But it's either take this risk now, for the Order, or let the risk to all our families and friends and children keep growing as those bastards grow stronger. We have the chance to deal them a real blow here. They lost some of their better people in Hogsmeade—I've no doubt they hadn't planned on sacrificing all three Lestranges for this. We have to hit them fast and hard if we're to have any chance of slowing them down."

Mrs. Weasley was crying hard now. "Oh, God, what's going to happen to us all?"

"We're going to make it, Mum," Bill told her. "We're going to get through this."

"Bill's the only one we could really use in action," said an Order member whose voice Harry didn't recognize. "There's bound to be booby traps and the like. We need all our curse-breakers. Charlie could serve just as well in the first aid back at rendevous point."

"Now, wait a minute, you're not making me just sit and wait—"

"Emmeline is right," said Snape's voice. "There is no need to risk multiple members of your family in the front lines of this mission. I have no doubt that you will have plenty to do, Mr. Weasley, once our people begin returning."

Charlie made an irritated noise, but then Tonks spoke. "What about Harry?"

Harry stiffened, startled. "We can't risk Harry on something like this!" gasped Mrs. Weasley.

"But if he has a chance—" Emmeline Vance started, but Snape interrupted her.

"Even if the boy does turn out to be capable of destroying the Dark Lord, to bring him into such a melee as this is likely to be disastrous. The Dark Lord still has too many protectors at present."

"We'll have to keep Harry well away from our plans, then," said Remus. "His Occlumency skills are improving, but we still can't guarantee that anything he knows won't wind up in Voldemort's hands."

There was silence, as though they were waiting for someone to speak, then Sirius did, with a heavy sigh. "I agree, but...Harry won't like it. Not at all. After what happened to Percy, he'll have ideas of going after Voldemort, I have no doubt."

"Not to mention the twins. And wherever Harry tries to go, Ron and Hermione will most likely wind up. Ginny too," said Remus.

"We may not be able to keep the twins out of it," said Charlie.

"The twins could be helpful, but my concern is that whatever they know, they'll feel they have to tell Harry," said Sirius. "If you're determined to keep Harry out of the loop in this—I know, Remus, I know, I agree it's for the best even if I don't like it—then none of them can know."

"So, Black, I assume we may rely upon your discretion—"

"Yes, you have my bloody discretion, Snape, for all the good it does. Let's not fool ourselves; people are going to wind up dead, and whatever problems we have right now with Harry wanting to get into the action will increase tenfold when this mission is over!"

There was silence. And then, "He's right, you know. Each of us had better plan for the worst," said Tonks.

"And it's agreed, then, no word to our younger contingent until it's over," Moody added.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and sniffled, and there were murmurs of agreement. "I'll have a word with Albus, then," said Snape. "You'll all receive assignments within twenty-four hours. And be ready; when it happens, it will happen fast. Know your duties."

"Right," sighed someone. "Let's go, then."

Hermione scurried to her feet and started to urge the others off the stairs, but George caught her arm. Harry looked at the twins, then Ron, then Ginny, and they all reached an unspoken agreement. Hermione bit her lip nervously, then slowly nodded.

So when the door opened, and the Order members came out, Harry, Hermione, and the four younger Weasleys were all sitting on the top of the stairs to meet their teachers and families' startled gazes.

Mouths fell open, and from the back of the group, someone muttered, "Shit."

* * *

 

"I can't hear words like 'suicide mission,' and then pretend I don't know something's happening!" Harry cried after the Order had hauled its various younger members off to their various scoldings.

"You weren't supposed to hear those words at all," Remus was saying firmly.

Sirius was slumped against the wall, looking desolate, as his godson stormed back and forth in the parlor, the windowpanes and other loose objects rattling in the face of his frustration. "Well, I did!" Harry retorted. "You can't do this, Remus, I have to know what's going on!"

"Harry, you CAN'T know!" Remus said, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Our ability to succeed depends on secrecy; don't force us to Obliviate you!"

Harry wrenched away. "You wouldn't do that." One look at Remus's face had him looking appealingly to Sirius. "Don't..."

"I'm sorry," Sirius said softly. "We can't tell you anything."

"Harry..." Remus went to put a hand on his shoulder, but Harry stepped away from him, trembling from frustration and hurt. "Listen to me. You have to believe that we're doing the right thing. Trust us!"

"Yeah," Harry snarled bitterly. "And then just sit and wait to find out who comes back dead!"

Sirius came toward him. "Harry, don't go like this..."

"How'm I supposed to go!" Harry demanded, raising his voice to hide his distress. "How am I supposed to feel with you lot keeping me in the dark!"

"It's the only way this can work," Remus said softly. "Harry, listen." He made no further effort to approach him, so Harry threw himself into an armchair, glaring at the floor. "You have to promise us you'll work as hard as you can on Occluding your mind for the next few days."

Harry jammed his teeth into his lower lip as his emotions churned wildly. The fire was hissing furiously as if someone was pouring water into it. "Yeah, I know. Clear my bloody mind while I'm wondering what's going to happen to you."

"Harry," Sirius said, but Harry shook his head.

"Yes, I'll bloody do it!" he snapped. "If only to keep whatever you're doing from being any more a suicide mission than it already is." Sirius winced and looked away. Harry sighed and muttered, "Are you both going to go?" To his horror, his voice sounded rather small and plaintive.

To his further horror, Sirius and Remus both nodded. "You know we'll be careful. We'll do our best."

"You can't leave me like this," he choked out, furious and scared.

"Harry, we're not going to kill ourselves—"

"I can kill him!" Harry exploded, jumping out of his chair. A windowpane cracked. "I can bloody kill him, okay? The prophecy says I can!" They both gaped at him. "You've kept me in hiding long enough. If I don't fight him sooner or later, all this'll be for nothing!"

"No!" Remus stood straight up. "Harry, THAT is far too much a risk, prophecy or no prophecy. You're not ready!"

"Maybe you should let _me_ decide that," Harry retorted.

"I'm sorry," Remus said softly. "Our minds are made up."

Harry took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. "So's mine."

"Harry!"

"You don't want to tell me, fine. I'll Occlude as hard as I can. But I bet I can guess what this mission is about," Harry folded his arms defiantly. "I'm not being left in the dark anymore."

* * *

 

For all his threats and promises to find out what the Order was up to AND find some way of getting involved, Harry felt more scared than resolved after he made his goodbyes to his godfather and the rest of the Order and returned to Hogwarts.

The next forty-eight hours were a blur of raw nerves and frantic watching of every teacher involved with the Order, for some sign of what was about to happen. Hermione and Ron desperately tried to keep him calm, but he was in such a state that by Monday night, he was jumping at shadows and snapping at almost everyone who spoke a word to him.

"Harry, for heaven's sake, will you SIT DOWN?" Hermione cried as Harry stormed back and forth through the common room.

Most of the Gryffindors, still reeling from the deaths in Hogsmeade, didn't linger long after dinner before going to bed, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had the place to themselves.

"Snape sent me a note," Harry muttered distractedly. "No practice tonight. It's going to happen. I have to do something."

"Listen to yourself, mate!" Ron said, jumping up and catching his shoulders. "The last time you got that notion into your head was when we went to the Department of Mysteries."

Harry froze, staring at his best friend in horror, and Hermione sprang to her feet. "Harry, don't be mad at him—it's true! I know it's awful, it's so awful, and we're all so scared, but if you go rushing into a situation without knowing what's going on or without THEM knowing, you could make it worse! Harry, please, PLEASE listen to us!"

Feeling slightly sick to his stomach, Harry let them sit him down on the sofa. Ginny sat in an armchair across from him, watching his face, as Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him, each with a hand on his shoulders. Bastet came to sit in his lap, and Crookshanks at his feet. "I don't know what to do," he mumbled, running a hand over Bastet's smooth black fur absently.

"Then maybe this is a time when all we can do is nothing," said Ginny softly.

He took a shaky breath. "I just...guys, I can't! I _can't!_ I..." he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I'm the only one who can kill him! If I could just _do_ it, all this will be over!"

"But if you _don't_ kill him, then he'll kill _you_ , and it'll be over for everyone!" Hermione whispered back. "They're right, Harry! We just have to trust them! If you are our best chance of defeating him, then we can't risk you until the time is right! Trust them to know when it is!"

"But if I'm the best chance, how can I use that if no one tells me anything!" he retorted, springing off the sofa again, causing Bastet to leap from his lap with a yowl of protest. "If they don't let me know anything, they're just wanting me to be mindless, a...a weapon! Just what everyone keeps trying to convince me I'm not!"

"Harry," Ginny groaned. "You're taking this too personally!"

"My godfather's out there!" he hissed, rounding on her. "He and Remus are all I have!"

"That's not true!"

"Well...all right, I know, but...they're _mine._ " He dropped back onto the sofa again, and Ron put a hand on his back, patting him awkwardly. "I can't just sit and wait to find out what happens to them!"

His friends all sat silently, and at length, Hermione asked, "What're you going to do?"

"I'm—"

The portrait hole opened. All four of them leapt to their feet. Professor McGonagall was standing there. Harry was sure his heart had stopped for a moment, and Ron and Hermione each grabbed one of his arms. "Professor?" Ginny squeaked.

"Come with me to the Headmaster's office, please," said Professor McGonagall. The four of them exchanged glances, then scrambled for the portrait hole.

No one said a word as they followed Professor McGonagall to the Headmaster's office. The password, Harry noted in the part of his mind that wasn't a haze of near-panic, was bon-bon. When they got into Dumbledore's office, Fawkes was fluttering around as if agitated, and Dumbledore was by the Floo, reading something with Professor Snape.

Harry held his breath. "Oh, dear, this will require—ah, Minerva, right on time! I beg your pardon, Harry, Hermione, and our young Weasleys, but I must attend to an urgent call. I shan't be more than a few minutes," said Dumbledore.

Harry opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and from the look of them, his friends were also trying to come up with something to ask. The headmaster beckoned for Snape to precede him into the green flames, then shot a glance at the four of them again. "Minerva, perhaps you'd ask the house elves to send some tea up? Our students look as though they could use it."

"Professor," Hermione said weakly, clearly trying to muster a protest.

Dumbledore quickly came toward her and put one hand on her shoulder, the other on Harry's. "Please don't worry. I will return momentarily and make some explanations. For now, I must ask you to be calm."

And then he was gone. Tea appeared on his desk, in front of four chairs, and Harry and his friends sat, waiting numbly. Ginny seized her cup and took a sharp gulp, wincing as the tea scalded her mouth. Harry sighed and did the same. It did help a little bit. He slowed down and concentrated on sipping so that he didn't have to think of anything else.

"Do you think it's already happened or it's just now starting?" murmured Ron.

"I'd have thought Snape would go with them, if it had already started," Harry replied.

"Do you think you know what it is?" Ginny asked him quietly.

"I have my ideas," he sighed. "I'm just trying not to think about them too much. If it is happening now, Voldemort might try to find out from me." The tea was loosening the knots in his insides, and he gave his friends a weak smile. "So if my eyes turn red, run."

"Blimey, that's not a joke," muttered Ron, but he gave a half-grin. "All right, there?"

"Mm-hm." Harry drained the last of his tea, then eyed the leaves and grimaced. "Anyone want to try reading them?"

"No, thank you!" Hermione said dryly, and snatched the cup from him, putting it back on the desk. "Has it been a few minutes yet?"

"Dunno," Harry sighed, folding his arms on Dumbledore's desktop and resting his head on them, closing his eyes. Knowing that answers were close, at last, he felt much calmer. He could sense that no matter what, one way or another, tonight would bring answers.

"Harry?"

Remus and Sirius wouldn't die tonight. They wouldn't leave him alone, not now. They knew what it would do to him if he lost them both. They wouldn't leave him.

"Hey! All right, mate?"

He loved them. He couldn't lose them.

_They won't leave me._

_They...couldn't..._

* * *

 

"Oy! You awake?" Ron exclaimed, as Harry slumped on the top of Dumbledore's desk.

Hermione smiled sadly and shook her head. "Leave him, Ron, he's tired. Probably hasn't slept since we got back from Headquarters."

"Good point, but I'd have thought he'd want to stay awake long enough for us to find out about this mission the Order's on," Ron said, with a puzzled frown at their dozing friend.

That made Ginny sit up too, eyeing him. She reached cautiously over and gave Harry a gentle shake. "Hey, Harry. You're falling asleep a bit prematurely, aren't—Harry?" Her eyes traveled from Harry to meet Ron and Hermione's gazes, and the color drained from her face. "What the..."

Hermione shot from her chair so fast that it fell over, as Ron and Ginny began shaking Harry in earnest. "HEY! Wake up, mate! Bloody hell," Ron gasped, as Harry sagged limply into his arms. "Hermione?"

Snatching up Harry's teacup, Hermione sniffed it and ran her fingertip through the dregs, tasting it cautiously. She grabbed a napkin and spat into it. "Sleeping Draught!" Ron and Ginny froze, their eyes immediately falling on their own cups, and Hermione swiftly investigated them. "Just Harry, not us."

"BLOODY HELL!" Ron roared, depositing Harry in Ginny's lap and jumping up. "They set us—they sit HIM up! They knew they couldn't just force him to do whatever the hell they wanted, so they went and drugged him, those bloody—"

"Ron!" Hermione grabbed his arm as he stormed toward the office door. "Whatever the headmaster and the Order have done, obviously they thought it was best—"

Ron yanked his arm away. "So if we decided you weren't fit to know something was going on, and you disagreed, would that give us the right to slip YOU a Sleeping Draught?" Hermione stepped back, her eyes wide with dismay. Ron shook his head. "Either way, I want answers, right bloody now. They have no right to do this to him." He stomped to the office door and pulled.

Nothing happened.

"Uh, Ron," said Ginny, still cradling the unconscious Harry on the floor. "I think they did in fact set us ALL up."

"BUGGER!" Ron yelled, and started kicking the door. "YOU—BLOODY—GREAT— _GITS_ _!"_

A roar from the fireplace sent them all spinning around, leaping to their feet. Without evening meaning to, they all pulled their wands out. Dumbledore appeared, clambering out to make way for Professor Snape. His eyes rested upon each of the three of them, noting Harry's absence (due to the fact that he was currently unconscious on the floor.) After Snape came Professor Lupin, and after Lupin...

"Sirius," Hermione breathed. "My God, what's going on?"

Sirius didn't answer her, but swiftly came around Dumbledore's desk to kneel next to his sleeping godson. "This way, Sirius," said Dumbledore quietly, and as the three friends watched in shock, Sirius picked Harry up.

They brought Harry into an adjoining room of the office, where four beds had been set up. "Professor," Hermione said, more sharply this time as Sirius and Remus tucked Harry into one.

Dumbledore turned to them. "I'm afraid the four of you will be spending the night here. I will be away, as will Remus and Sirius, and as you know, we could not risk Harry attempting to follow us. Not now."

"So you just went and drugged him," said Ron accusingly.

Sirius made a noise as though his insides were paining him, and Dumbledore sighed sadly. "I fear we had few other options. Time and secrecy are of the essence. Lord Voldemort will be unable to penetrate Harry's mind while he is under this Potion," he nodded to Snape, "and the wait will be far easier for Harry to bear this way." He shook his head and walked to the bedside where Sirius was sitting, peering over his shoulder at the sleeping Harry. "This is merely one of many things for which I shall have to ask his forgiveness."

"You're all going," Hermione whispered as Remus sat down on the other side of the bed, touching Harry's face. "Every one of you, you're...you're attacking the Fortress, aren't you?"

Snape looked sharply at her, but Dumbledore smiled. "As quick as ever, my dear Hermione. Yes. Our side will be greatly strengthened if Lord Voldemort's stronghold falls."

"But what's to stop him from finding another?" Ginny protested.

"I've no doubt he will, but there are very few places in the world, wizarding or Muggle, that possess as much power for the Dark Arts as the Fortress of Shadows. We have been preparing for many months for an attack that might, if done properly, make it uninhabitable to him. If we succeed, he will lose it, as will any future dark wizards," Dumbledore explained.

"No," Hermione whispered, no longer quite looking at him.

Ron and Ginny blinked at her, and Snape said, "Miss Granger, you will find that if you allow your fears to prevent you from taking any actions—"

"Please!" Hermione blurted, focusing on Dumbledore again. "You can't all go!"

Sirius and Remus looked up at her in surprise. "What?"

"You...you don't understand, don't...don't you know what it'll _do_ to him if he lost you?" she cried, turning to them.

Both men flinched, and Snape and Dumbledore exchanged startled glances. "Hermione, I know you're frightened," Dumbledore began, but she shook her head desperately.

"Professor, please, I just...the Fortress of Shadows, it's too strong! Mrs. Weasley's right, it's a suicide mission, I'm sure of it!" Hermione pleaded.

Snape, for a brief moment, looked highly unsettled, then he rallied his forces and said snidely, "Miss Granger, I have always known your penchant for believing you know everything, but the Order has been researching the Fortress and its magic for a very long time, and I find it hard to believe that you can claim to know more than we do about what we are up against."

Hermione started to cry, looking at the sleeping Harry. "I just...I don't know, I'm sorry, I just...I'm sure that if you go, something horrible's going to happen!" Ron ran over and put his arms around her, glaring at Dumbledore and Snape as if blaming them for her distress.

"Hermione," said Remus, rising from the bedside and coming to take her hands. "It will be all right. You have to trust us. Let us do what we need to do."

She wrenched out of Ron's grip and grabbed his arms. "If either you or Sirius dies, it will destroy Harry! He'll never recover, Remus! He _can't_ lose either of you, not now!" With a sob, she buried her face in his chest.

There was a light knock on the door, and Professor McGonagall came in. Her eyes were soft as she took in the scene, but then she looked at the headmaster and said, "Albus, it's time."

Dumbledore sighed. "Thank you, Minerva. I'm sorry, Sirius, Remus, we must be going now."

"No..."

"I'm sorry, Hermione!"

"Professor, you don't understand, one of you won't come back!" she cried.

Snape and Professor McGonagall stared at each other. Dumbledore smiled sadly and shook his head.

"Hermione," Remus firmly detached her from him and handed her over to Ron. "Listen to me. If the worst does happen, we're counting on you to...to...look after him for us. Promise us you will."

Hermione was sobbing, but Ginny stood up and came over next to Ron. She wiped her own eyes and said quietly, "We promise."

"Thanks," said Sirius, not taking his eyes off Harry. It was only when Remus came and put a hand on his shoulder that he allowed himself to be led from the room.

When the door closed behind them, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny knew it would do no good to try and open it.

* * *

 

It was the deepest, most comfortable sleep Harry had had in a long time. He floated in it comfortably for a long time, wandering through dreams, for once, and all troubles left him. He dreamed a lot of flying, often on a broomstick, but sometimes on a flying motorbike, cradled by a big, vaguely familiar form as the wind whooshed around him.

Once his dreams traveled back to that black night full of green light and fear, but then, in the dark that followed the high, cruel laugh, he was aware of something coming after. Light returned, and he was gathered into a pair of strong, sheltering arms that held him until the motorbike whisked him away.

He'd never remembered that before, he thought, strangely lucid in his dreams. Even after the green light and the evil laughter had gone, someone had come for him. Someone who loved him.

_You have never been without love, Harry._

"What?"

The dream wasn't quite so nice anymore. He was standing in the darkness on Privet Drive. All the street lights were out for some reason. A very tall form came out of the darkness toward him. An old man with a long, white beard, and a tall hat, and brightly-colored robes.

"Professor Dumbledore? Where am I?"

_You're only dreaming, Harry. Don't be afraid._

Harry shrugged and looked around. "I'm not afraid, I just...would rather dream of something other than this."

Dumbledore smiled at him. _I know. But I brought you here because there is something I must explain to you. In fact, there are many things I must explain to you. And this will be my last chance._

"Why?" Harry asked, puzzled.

Dumbledore nodded to the front step of Number Four, Privet Drive. Harry could see a bundle on the step, and he cautiously walked closer. The bundle was moving slightly, and when he looked...

"That's me!" he gasped, seeing the top of the small head, and a lightning bolt-shaped cut beneath the fringe of black hair. "This is..."

_The night your parents died, Harry, I brought you here. I condemned you to ten long, very unhappy years in a loveless family. Last year, the night your godfather died, I explained to you my purpose. But tonight, I must at last make a confession to you._

"A confession?"

Dumbledore nodded, his twinkling eyes sadder than Harry had ever seen, or could ever imagine. _I was wrong. Harry, I made a dreadful mistake that night. More than one, in fact. In my zeal to protect your life, I wounded you and others terribly._

Harry looked at the baby, himself at one year old, on the front step again. "I thought you said it was the only way to keep me alive," he muttered. But he found that he was somewhat gratified by what Dumbledore had said.

Just being on Privet Drive was like a nightmare.

 _Yes,_ said Dumbledore as if he'd heard what Harry was thinking. _My weakness, Harry, was that I truly believed your aunt and uncle would be capable of loving you in time, or at least caring for you. I miscalculated that dreadfully, so that the only home you ever knew growing up was one where you were scorned and despised. And I sent those who did love you away. I thought I was doing right for you at the time, keeping you safe from fame and fawning. Instead I placed you in a house full of hate._

Harry didn't argue. He sat down on the curb and stared up at the lightening sky. A short time later, he heard the front door open, and Aunt Petunia's scream of surprise, disbelief, and...sheer revulsion. He winced hard.

Dumbledore closed his eyes, and Privet Drive disappeared. _Compounding my shame of that night, I made no effort to investigate the particulars of the betrayal that had led to your parents' death. We knew there was a spy among the close friends of Lily and James, and because we believed Sirius Black was their Secret Keeper, once they were lost, there could be no doubt at the time that it was he—or so we thought. And so my negligence took your godfather from you, the one person I might have considered handing you over to, had we not believed he was guilty of your parents' murder._

That hurt. The thought, the barest thought of those first ten years having been with Sirius instead of the Dursleys...Harry turned away. "What do you want me to say?" he muttered.

_Nothing, Harry. Merely for you to listen. I have hurt you far too badly to deserve anything from you, but all I have come to do tonight is give you the answers you've been asking for for so long._

Harry sighed, and nodded.

Dumbledore went on. _As I'm sure you know by now, I also sent Remus Lupin away. There was no Wolfsbane at the time, even if a werewolf could have adopted a child, which they cannot. But it was I who denied him any part in your early life—and by that same act, denied you of another person who would have shown you love. Remus was broken by the murders of his friends, and it was simple enough to order him out of wizarding Britain and all its painful memories. I sent him to Egypt, and there he stayed and worked until I asked him to return at the beginning of your third year._

Biting his lip, Harry nodded again. It was hard not to wonder how lonely Remus must have been after he'd lost all his friends, and to wonder if Remus had thought of Harry...

 _Oh, he did, Harry. He did. He never stopped thinking of you. But he feared himself and what he was, feared exposing you to that, and I did nothing to dissuade his fears. That is yet another weight on my soul._ Dumbledore sighed, looking terribly old and sad, and went on, _Oh, Harry, each time I have tried to protect you, I have hurt you._

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry blurted. "Why now?"

Dumbledore looked at him and smiled. _Because this is my last chance._

"Last chance...what are you talking about?"

_Harry...there is something else that I have kept from you. I have not told you of another prophecy that is tied very closely to your future, and Voldemort's. But the reason I did not tell you this one is that there is nothing you could do, one way or the other, to affect it. And it would only bring you distress._

Harry nodded. "I understand. What is it?"

 _It is another given by our own Sybill Trelawney,_ said Dumbledore, with a rather ironic smile. _She said, 'The one who vanquished the last Dark Lord must fall before the one with the power to vanquish the next Dark Lord can rise.' You understand, Harry?_

"Uh...no...who was the _last_ Dark Lord?" Harry asked in confusion. "Wasn't it Voldemort in the last war too?"

_Yes, of course. You must look back in history before Voldemort. The last Dark Lord to threaten the wizarding world was Grindelwald._

"Grindelwald! But it was you who..." Even in the dream, Harry's heart lurched. "But...but...the prophecy said...fall—you CAN'T!"

Dumbledore smiled sadly. _I must, Harry. I have known since before you were born that I would not live to see the end of this war. And that if you were to have any chance of defeating Voldemort, I must perish._

Harry stumbled toward him, one hand futilely outstretched. "Professor...please...no..."

 _It is prophesized, Harry. We cannot deny what must be,_ Dumbledore told him.

Harry's throat closed, but he was too frantic, too horrified to notice. "You—can't—die! We—we need you— _I_ need you!"

With a sigh, Dumbledore said, _I fear I have already done you more harm than good. That is why I came to you now. Let me finish, my dear boy, there's not much time._ Harry bit back more protests. _I came for two reasons: to explain the terrible errors I have made, that you might better understand them. I did not come to ask your forgiveness—I have no right to it as yet. Perhaps one day I will deserve it, and you will find it in your heart to give it, but for now, I shall be content to tell you my second reason for coming to you._

_It was to say that from that very night that I took you from Hagrid and placed you on the step of your mother's sister's home, I loved you. If you believe nothing else I have ever said to you, my beloved, wounded child, believe that: I have always loved you. And that has only increased my grief as I realized what my blunders have done to you. Even if you someday are able to forgive me, I shall never forgive myself. Even though I loved you, my foolish decisions very nearly damned you._

Harry was shaking. He knew he was dreaming, but his body felt very real, including the shock and despair now coursing through it. "Professor...you...when you wouldn't look at me last year, it wasn't just because no one would tell me anything...I thought...you didn't...care about me anymore..."

Dumbledore raised a hand to his face, and the worn old hand felt strangely, frighteningly real. Harry choked back a sob. _I know. You cannot know how many times I nearly declared my feelings and swept you into my arms, how many times I nearly stormed the Dursleys' household and claimed you for my own child. They would have let me take you, I know that. I wish now with all my heart that I had given in and let myself love you as you, my dear boy, deserved to be loved._

_But now my time here is over. I merely could not help but take this last chance to tell you all that I should have told you long ago. I should have explained my failures to you, and begged your forgiveness before the scars became too deep and permanent...and I should not have denied you the love of all those who had it to offer you—least of all my own._

"Professor..." Harry gasped.

 _I am sorry, Harry. I am so sorry. I have no time left._ Dumbledore knelt in front of him, taking both of his hands, and kissed him on the forehead, right over his scar. _Your heart has saved you more than once from Voldemort, and I believe in the end it will save our world._

_I loved you, Harry. Goodbye._


	39. Alone In The Dark

"NOOOO!" Harry sat bolt upright, flinging bedclothes in every direction. "NO, PROFESS—NO!"

"Harry!" Hands were shaking him, trying to restrain him. "Harry, calm down!"

"It's a vision," someone said.

"No," Harry gasped, managing to focus his eyes on Ron and Hermione standing over him. "Not—vision—Dumbledore!"

"What!" Ron exclaimed.

"Dumbledore—die—"

Hermione let Harry go and stepped back, her hands over her mouth. "It's happened," she whispered.

"What do you mean?" demanded Ginny, appearing from somewhere behind Ron. "How could Harry have seen Dumbledore die in a vis—"

The door opened. Harry looked to see Dumbledore's office beyond. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione followed him tentatively out, and they saw that the main office door had opened as well. "So we can go now?" asked Ron softly.

The portraits were muttering amongst themselves, and Harry and his friends turned to them curiously. Several were taking off their hats. "Alas," said one of them. "The greatest of this age has passed on."

"No!" Ginny gasped, horrified.

Hermione was staring at the open door. "That's why..." she murmured.

"It's not possible," Ron protested.

Harry charged down the stairs. Before long, they could hear a disturbance in the entrance hall, and ran to see what it was. Students were pouring into the halls from all directions, and the light from the windows indicated that it was mid-morning. "What's going on?" Ginny yelled to a random group of Ravenclaws.

"There's something happening on the grounds! Lots of people crossing into the wards!" shouted Michael Corner. "Half the teachers are gone!"

Harry shoved through the mob, his heart pounding, panic rising in his throat. _No, no, it can't be true, it can't...Dumbledore..._

Over Mr. Filch's shouted objections and threats, students were getting out of the school building from every possible exit: windows, side doors, secret passages. Hermione led them to a door off the kitchens, and they burst outside to see that there was indeed a mass of people gathered just inside the wards. Harry ran as hard as he could.

_Please don't let it be true, please don't let it be true, please..._

There were red Auror robes, green Healers' robes, plain wizards' robes, but no Death Eater robes that they could see. As they came closer, they could see some of the people in the crowd were hurt, all were milling about in some state of shock. Whatever the Order had been doing, it must be over.

There were teachers from Hogwarts in the mob, assisting injured wizards or talking excitedly to the Aurors. There didn't seem to be any sense to the chaos until Harry caught sight of a figure lying motionless on the grass, a figure in deep purple robes with long white hair. He slowed, as his stomach began to feel like it was inching his way up his chest, and he was sure for a minute he was going to throw up.

_Dumbledore...oh my god..._

"Oh!" Ginny made a strangled noise and covered her mouth with trembling hands. Now that they looked closely, they could see that many of the Healers and teachers on the field were weeping as they worked.

Ron was motionless next to Harry, his mouth half-open. "It can't be true," he whispered. "He can't...he can't be..."

Hermione began to sob.

 _Dumbledore's dead...Dumbledore..._ Harry's mind couldn't seem to wrap itself around the idea of a world without Dumbledore. _What's going to happen to us...the Order..._

_THE ORDER!_

Harry started running again, searching the crowd for familiar faces. _Remus_ _and Sirius—where are they?_ Behind them, he heard Ron and Ginny following, shouting, "Bill! Charlie!"

"Remus!" Harry yelled at random, searching the stunned, dirty faces frantically. "Remus, Sirius!"

"Harry!" A pair of arms snagged him abruptly, and his momentum spun him around until he found himself face-to-face with Tonks. The Metamorphmagus looked exhausted and dirty, but still alert, an Auror still at work. "What are you doing here, you need to go back—"

"Remus and Sirius," he hissed urgently at her. "Where are they?"

Tonks relaxed a little and squeezed his shoulders. "They're safe, Harry, they're both safe, I've seen them. They're around somewhere."

"Bill!" He glanced sideways to see Ginny flying into her older brother's arms, and Charlie standing next to them. Bill Weasley looked dirty, sweaty, and upset, but none the worse for wear. Charlie's robes were smeared with blood that Harry realized, in a rush of nausea, was not Charlie's own.

He turned back to Tonks. "What happened?" he demanded. "You've got to tell me!"

Scrubbing her face with her hands, she grunted, "We hit the Fortress of Shadows. I think we took it out—can't really remember, they had me evacuating casualties—but we've had losses. Dumbledore..." she made a choked sound and turned away. Gripping his arm, she said, "You and the others have to go back. This area's not secure, and Voldemort'll be looking to retaliate."

"But Remus and Sirius..." he protested.

"Harry, they're both all right! I promise," she said. "They're probably in this lot somewhere helping the injured—we can't worry about that and you. We'll get you to Headquarters to see them as soon as we can."

Harry met her eyes and sighed, relenting. "Okay." She patted his arm wearily, and he walked over the trampled grass to where Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were gathered with Bill and Charlie. "They want us to go."

"Remus and Sirius?" Hermione whispered.

"Tonks says they're safe. They attacked the Fortress," he told her. She nodded absently, watching the activity around them.

Aurors and Healers were starting to move the worst injured onto stretchers and using Portkeys to transport them out. Harry scanned a few faces as they were carried away, but didn't see anyone he recognized. There were reporters showing up now, being held back behind a line of rope conjured by Hagrid. Their cameras were snapping, but for once they weren't pointed at Harry. Harry did everything he could to keep from looking at what the reporters were looking at. He didn't want to see anymore.

Just then, a familiar, sour voice reached his ears. "Bloody bastards, if I hadn't been so busy trying to protect Vance's flank, I'd have seen them coming!"

"But your reflexes are as good as ever, Severus. Another few inches, and you'd have lost a limb. Come on, let's get you back to the Hospital Wing."

Harry turned around, his legs suddenly unsteady. "R-Remus?" he half-gasped.

Professor Lupin was there, just a few yards away, with one of Snape's arms over his shoulder as he helped the injured Potions Master to walk. Snape appeared to be nursing a nasty burn or gash to his leg, but was still coherent enough to complain. Remus looked fine.

"Remus!"

Remus looked up wearily, but his eyes widened as he met Harry's gaze. "Harry!" He released Snape with one arm as Harry stumbled toward him, and caught Harry in a one-armed hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Sticking his nose where he doesn't belong, as usual," Snape grunted.

Harry ignored the jibe, pressing his face into Remus's dirty robes for a few seconds until he got control of himself. "I'm so glad you're okay! Where's Sirius?"

Remus let him go to resume assisting Snape. "I'm sure he's around somewhere—"

"Harry!"

"Ah, there he is."

Harry spun around just in time to be crushed into a pair of familiar arms. "Sirius?"

"Oh, God, Harry, what're you—never mind, it'll keep." After embracing Harry hard enough to break ribs for several seconds, Sirius let him go enough for Harry to step back and see his face. To his intense relief, his godfather seemed fine, though he looked scraped, bruised, and exhausted. With a sad smile on his worn face, Sirius held him back at arm's length. "I'm glad to see you—even if you shouldn't be out here. Are you okay?"

"Dumbledore," Harry muttered, and Sirius winced, nodding.

"I know, I know." He hugged Harry again. "We've lost a lot of people today, but at least we gave as good as we got."

"The Fortress?"

"Dumbledore blew it to hell before You-Know-Who got him, bless him," said Emmeline Vance from nearby as she helped move an unconscious Auror onto a stretcher.

"Voldemort killed Dumbledore?" Harry breathed, appalled.

Sirius nodded, looking past Harry at where Harry knew Dumbledore's body was. Remus was looking there too, though Snape was looking fixedly at the ground. "I'm glad James isn't here to see this," murmured Remus to Sirius.

"I know," Sirius sighed, giving Harry's shoulders a squeeze. "I was thinking the same thing,"

"I say, Minerva," Remus called to Professor McGonagall, who was talking to an Auror while wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. "We're getting an awfully large number of students out here!"

Professor McGonagall turned and saw the large crowd of Hogwarts students standing in stunned shock on the grounds, staring at the scene taking place. Blowing her nose once, she stalked out of the chaos and roared for them all to return to the building. Harry watched as they scattered, but made no move to go himself, though he saw Bill and Charlie urging Ron, Hermione, and Ginny away.

Things were beginning to quiet down in the center of the crowd of returned fighters, though the reporters were still chattering at the top of their voices. Most of the worst-injured had been taken away. Madam Pomfrey was trudging over to Professor Snape, snapping at him to hold still as he snapped back various complaints at her, and Remus was chuckling wearily.

Finally, she snapped, "That's it, Professor Lupin, _kindly_ assist Professor Snape to the Hospital Wing, and be so good as to Stun him if he moves before I get there!"

Remus half-bowed, laughing. "Yes, ma'am! Come on, Harry, you're coming with us. I want you out of this bedlum."

Pomfrey turned, following his gaze and began to scold Harry, "I quite agree, Mr. Potter, whatever are you doing in this—" She suddenly broke off, her mouth half-open, and her eyes went wide as saucers with stark terror as they fell on something behind Harry.

Harry whirled around, as did Sirius, seeking whatever had frightened the Mediwitch. Had Death Eaters come to retaliate? Was Voldemort here to finish off Harry now that he'd killed Dumbledore? Who or what...

There were half a dozen Aurors behind them, wands trained on them, all wearing expressions of combined determination and panic. "What..."

"Harry," said Madam Pomfrey in a trembling voice. "Harry, don't move."

"What!" Harry looked around in confusion, still unable to identify the source of the threat, then glanced at Sirius. His godfather's face had gone stark white, but when Harry followed his gaze, he realized Sirius was looking at the Aurors.

And then he realized what had happened. _Sirius..._

Remus swore softly under his breath, and even Snape had frozen. No one, Aurors or Order, could seem to decide what to do.

Harry didn't see a single familiar face among the Aurors, and his heart was beginning to pound. He looked around, and saw more and more red robes encircling them, surrounding Sirius with their wands all pointed straight at his godfather. Even the reporters were silent, except for the soft clicking of cameras.

Finally, one of the Aurors spoke. "Black. Raise your hands and back away from the boy."

Feeling Sirius's grip start to release his shoulders, Harry grabbed his godfather's hands. "No," he whispered.

"Harry, quiet," Sirius said softly. Looking over his shoulder, Harry saw in horror that his godfather's white face was calm and resigned.

Sirius was going to surrender.

_NO..._

"Sirius..."

"Harry," Madam Pomfrey said, extending one hand without taking her eyes off Sirius. "You don't know who that is—"

"Yes, I do!" Harry shouted as panic took hold of him. "He's my godfather!"

A murmur of astonishment went up among the reporters, the camera clicking grew louder, and the Aurors exchanged baffled glances. "Son, just do what we say—"

"No!" Harry twisted around, trying to put himself between Sirius and the Aurors, but Sirius grabbed him.

Several people gasped and cried out, but Sirius ignored them. "Harry, don't!" Harry had him by both arms, determined in the haze of terror not to let go of his godfather as he twisted around to stare at the Aurors' faces, seeking a way out. _They can't take Sirius, they can't take Sirius, they can't..._ "Harry, _listen_ to me!" Sirius whispered. "You have to get out of this. It'll be all right."

"No," Harry whispered desperately. "They'll take you, they'll send you to the dementors..."

"Black, let him GO!" shouted an Auror.

"I'm not going to hurt him!" Sirius shouted, and tried to step away from Harry, but Harry held onto him.

"No, Sirius!" Harry cried, turning desperately toward the Aurors. "You can't—I won't let you!" And he pulled his wand out.

"Harry, don't!" Remus and Sirius shouted simultaneously, but one of the Aurors recoiled, then took aim.

"Oh my God!" someone yelled, and Sirius yanked him back, raising a hand to the Aurors.

"Don't curse him!"

Too late. The rattled Aurors saw a wand pointed at them and reacted out of instinct. Harry heard _Expelliarmus_ incanted from several directions, and the next thing he knew, his wand was gone. He stared in horror at his empty hand, his mind moving too slow to keep up. This couldn't be happening!

He sprang in front of Sirius, trying to keep his body between his godfather and the Aurors. "He's innocent!"

Ripples of surprise came from the reporters, and Harry turned instinctively toward them. "He was framed!" he shouted. He could see quills moving. "He never even had a trial! Peter Pettigrew is the murderer, not him! Pettigrew faked his own death!"

"Confunded," someone muttered, and Harry started to shout a denial, then someone else spoke up.

"It's true." Harry and Sirius both turned in surprise to see Snape, standing with the assistance of Remus. "Peter Pettigrew was the traitor who sold the Potters to the Dark Lord. He framed Black for his own murder and is now still in the Dark Lord's service."

Madam Pomfrey was staring in disbelief, and Harry heard someone say, "No trial?"

Sirius whispered in his ear, "Harry, go to Remus."

"No!" he hissed back furiously.

"Harry, fighting them won't help my case!"

"They'll just throw you back in Azkaban!"

"They will do no such thing, Mr. Potter," said another voice, and he turned to see Professor McGonagall and Mr. McGonagall coming back toward them. "Ladies and gentlemen, that will be quite enough hexing of Hogwarts students, thank you."

The Aurors hesitated, startled, and Sirius took the opportunity to take out his own wand. People gasped, but he tossed it to the ground. "No," Harry choked out, but Sirius squeezed his shoulders again, turning him around so he could look his godson in the face.

"Harry, it'll be all right. This had to happen sometime." He gave Harry a weak smile and sighed. "At least now I finally get my trial."

"Sirius," Harry pleaded, trying to hold on to his godfather's arms. Everything that had happened...it was too much. Dumbledore dead, Percy dead, now Sirius, _Sirius arrested!_ "Sirius, no!"

"Enough of that, Mr. Williamson!" said a stern voice, and they saw Mr. McGonagall looking at an Auror whose wand was again aimed at them. "The boy is in no immediate danger, and Mr. Black is attempting to cooperate. It will not look well for you to be seen throwing around hexes without provocation." To Harry, he said, "I will, of course, be accompanying Mr. Black to the Ministry, to see that all rights are upheld. If there has been no trial, we shall have to remedy that."

"For a murderer," someone muttered, and Harry turned, furious.

"He's NOT a murderer!"

"Harry, that's enough," Sirius said softly. Harry turned to face his godfather again, biting his lip hard. "You have to let go. I promise, it'll be okay."

Someone touched his shoulders, and he jumped. It was Professor McGonagall. "Come, Potter," she said quietly. "You can do nothing here."

"What're they going..." he mumbled.

"They will take Sirius Black into custody, and his counsel," she indicated Mr. McGonagall, "will lodge an inquiry as to whether all his rights have been observed, including his right to a trial before the Wizengamot before he can be returned to prison or any...other punishment."

"Dementors," Harry hissed furiously, fighting the lump in his throat.

"The dementors no longer guard Azkaban, and his safety will be protected until the trial is over," she said firmly. "Come. Harry, you must let him go," she whispered urgently.

Shaking, Harry slowly released his godfather's arms. Sirius chucked him gently under the chin with a smile that didn't quite meet his gray eyes, then he turned, hands raised, to face the Aurors. Harry's head swam and his stomach lurched when he saw them conjuring ropes to tie his godfather, and he was sure he would either faint or throw up at any minute.

_Sirius...no...Sirius..._

"Remus," he whispered helplessly.

Behind him, he heard Remus saying, "Minerva, if someone else can see to Severus, I think I'll accompany Sirius as well. We're all going to have statements to give; I may as well give mine." Remus gave Harry a reassuring smile as he went to join the Aurors.

Sirius never took his eyes off Harry, and tried now and then to muster a smile as the Aurors tied him up. Harry could hear the reporters shouting questions somewhere in the background, but ignored them. Sirius and Remus were too far away now for him to hear what they were saying to each other. Then the Aurors surrounded Sirius and began marching him down toward the edge of the wards. Sirius still looked over his shoulder at Harry, mouthing, _It'll be okay._

Professor McGonagall put a hand on his shoulder from behind as he swayed on his feet. He'd stood face-to-face with Voldemort multiple times, and faced moments when he was sure he was about to die, but never had Harry felt more scared than he did right now.

The Aurors, Sirius, and Remus reached the Hogsmeade road, went over the hill, and were gone.

* * *

 

Harry wasn't aware of much during the walk back to Hogwarts. People talked to him, possibly Professor McGonagall or Ron and Hermione, but he didn't answer. It was as if the image of the Aurors tying his godfather and marching him away to Azkaban... _Azkaban..._ was permanently stuck in front of his eyes. That was all he could see.

Some time later, he became aware that he was in the Great Hall with the rest of the students. Someone had an arm around him, trying to get him to eat, and he blinked. It was Hermione. She was saying something, but he just shook his head.

_Sirius! SIRIUS!_

_What's going to happen to him?_

Lots of students were crying, he noticed dully. Word must have gotten around about Professor Dumbledore dying...

_I loved you, Harry. Goodbye._

Or maybe Professor McGonagall had made an announcement. If she had, Harry hadn't heard it.

Someone was pressing a glass into his hand. It looked like pumpkin juice, and they wouldn't let him put it down, so he sipped it. They still wouldn't let him put it down, so he sipped again, and again, until he felt the world coming back into focus, and the fog in his shocked mind began to recede a little.

"—feel a little better, Harry?"

He blinked. Hermione was watching him with red, worried eyes. He nodded. "Yeah," he said hoarsely, and cleared his throat, taking another sip of pumpkin juice and whatever Potion was also in it. "I...sorry..."

"It's okay," said Ron, patting his back. Harry noticed that Ron's eyes were red too. "Everyone's a ruddy mess. There were twenty-seven of our people killed. Not counting...Dumbledore," he sighed. When Harry stiffened, he said quickly, "Nobody we really knew. Well, that is...Hestia Jones and Ephias Doge of the Order, but..." he shook his head. "Moody's at St. Mungo's, but they say he'll make it. Snape should get out of the Hospital Wing later tonight."

Harry swallowed hard and muttered, "Have you heard anything...about Sirius?"

Hermione shook her head. "But he's got Mr. McGonagall and Remus with him. They won't be able to just...lock him away, Harry, I promise. Mr. McGonagall won't let him. And the reporters heard you proclaiming his innocence—that'll count for something."

"It'll count for a lot," Ron agreed, patting his back again. "Hang on, mate. We'll get him back."

"We'll get him back free," Ginny added. "When it's over, he'll be exonerated, and he'll never have to hide again."

Harry rubbed his aching head. "I wish I could believe you."

"Drink some more juice," Hermione ordered him. "It's got Restorative Potion in it, and I got a stronger one from Madam Pomfrey. You've had a bad shock. We all have." She pulled a face, rubbed her eyes, and put an arm around Ron' shoulders.

Harry mustered a weak smile at her. Some things never changed. He gulped some more Potion and glanced around the Great Hall. The Slytherin table, he realized, was missing quite a few people. "We were wondering if you'd notice," said Ron.

"Malfoy's gone," Harry mused.

"Crabbe and Goyle too. And Parkinson and Bulstrode," said Hermione. She lowered her voice and said, "The word is that they disappeared yesterday after dinner. They might have been...there."

Ginny made an angry noise. "I almost hope they were."

Neville came over to them. "Everyone's asking about Harry and Sirius Black. No one knows what's going on. Didn't he..." he looked at Harry in confusion and asked cautiously, "didn't he _die?_ "

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny winced, but Harry shook his head. "It's a long story. But what matters is he's innocent. He's my godfather."

"But I thought he killed—" Dean Thomas began, but Seamus Finnegan elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"If Harry says he's innocent, then he's innocent." He gave Harry a wry smile. "After all, you're usually right about everything." Not missing the irony in Seamus's voice, Harry found it easier to smile in return.

A rustle from the ceiling made everyone jump, but it was just the owls delivering a late edition of the _Daily Prophet_. "Oh, lord, here we go," Hermione muttered.

" _Oh no_ , you don't," Ginny said sharply, and snatched the paper from Hedwig before Harry could take it. Hedwig looked put-out, but Harry called her over and fed her some carrots from the almost-untouched dinner table.

When he looked up, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville were all crowded around his copy of the paper, their faces solemn. "Well?" They looked nervously at him. "Go on, show me."

With a grimace, Ron turned the paper around. And Harry immediately wished he hadn't:

**_ALBUS_ ** **_DUMBLEDORE KILLED IN BATTLE WITH HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED!_ **

was the screaming banner headline. And in an only slightly-smaller headline below it:

**_SIRIUS BLACK APPREHENDED AT HOGWARTS!  
_ ** **_BOY-WHO-LIVED PROCLAIMS BLACK'S INNOCENCE!_ **

Hermione hastily pulled the paper away as Harry felt blood draining from his face. He fumbled for his pumpkin juice, and took a large gulp. Ginny put a hand on his arm. "It'll be okay," she whispered.

The doors slammed open.

Everyone in the room froze as Aurors swarmed in. They were followed by Cornelius Fudge who stalked directly towards Harry, his chest puffed out with self-importance. Harry was keenly aware of Headmaster Dumbledore's absence, and from the look of him, so was Fudge.

From the Head Table, Professor McGonagall demanded, "Minister Fudge! What is the meaning of this!"

Fudge ignored her, and gave a peremptory guesture in Harry's direction. "Take him."

Immediately, Harry felt hands grab him by the arms, and he was hauled to his feet. Hermione jumped up with a cry of protest, and the nearest Auror knocked her to the ground. Surrounding Gryffindors came to their feet shouting, followed quickly by many students from the other Houses.

"MINISTER!" Professor McGonagall roared. "YOU WILL EXPLAIN THIS ACTION!"

Fudge turned to her dismissively. "As you can see, Professor McGonagall, I am placing this boy under arrest."

"Your Aurors have also just struck one of my students!" Harry stared in astonishment at Hermione, who was pulling herself to her feet, rubbing her bruised chin, and glaring daggers at the Auror who currently had a wand in her face.

"My apologies," Fudge said lazily, "but we will brook no interference."

Aurors with wands drawn were keeping the other students at bay. Harry was aware of two of them marching him towards the doors of the Great Hall, but couldn't seem to muster the energy to struggle. "Do something!" Ginny screamed.

"Minister, you have no authority to do this..." Professor McGonagall shouted, only to be cut off by Fudge.

"Your Headmaster is the only person with the authority to contest this, and in case you haven't noticed, Madam, he's gone!" Fudge gave a smile of triumph. "We'll be going now... _with_ Mr. Potter."

Professor Smythe-Wellington calmly rose to her feet. "And with what are you charging the student, Minister?"

Fudge actually inclined his head to her. "Aiding and abetting a fugitive from Ministry Justice, Madam." Smythe-Wellington frowned, and he elaborated, "the criminal, Sirius Black."

"Ah."

Fudge turned to follow the Aurors and Harry as they moved towards the door. _Maybe they'll let me share a cell with Sirius_ , he thought dully.

Just as the front- most Aurors and Minister Fudge reached them, the Great Hall doors slammed shut.

Harry blinked.

Fudge whirled around, eyes ablaze, to see Professor Smythe-Wellington still standing at the Head Table, but with one arm outstretched, her open hand aimed at the doors. As Harry, Fudge, the Aurors, and the students watched, she lowered her hand, reached into her belt, and drew her wand, bringing it to bear upon the Minister of Magic. " _No,_ Minister," she announced coldly. "You will _not_ be going now with Mr. Potter."

Fudge went purple in the face and sputtered, "How DARE you!" She merely raised her eyebrows. He waved his hand vigorously at the nearest Aurors. "Disarm her!" The Aurors gaped at him, then glanced uneasily at each other. A few of them did begin to raise their wands, but Smythe-Wellington cast a quick glance at them, and they froze. Fudge bellowed, "You cannot stop us from arresting this young criminal!"

"I believe I just did," she replied.

"You're violating the law by threatening me!"

Smythe-Wellington's lip curled, and when she spoke, her voice dripped with contempt for the Minister. "I _certainly_ am."

"Your teacher is interfering with a lawful arrest, Professor McGonagall!" Fudge shouted.

"My teacher is acting under _my_ authority, to protect one of _my_ students," she replied. "And you will kindly address me now as _Headmistress_ McGonagall."

Smythe-Wellington's lips twitched, and she turned her gaze to Harry. "You may return to your seat, Mr. Potter."

Harry didn't think he could have disobeyed her even if he'd wanted to. As he walked somewhat numbly back to the Gryffindor table, it dawned on him: Smythe-Wellington had stood up for him. She'd _broken the law!_

For him.

He noticed that not a single Auror was looking at him because their undivided attention was still on her. He found himself wondering distractedly what kind of teacher she must have been in the Auror program that not a single one of them could help listening to her. _Blimey, Moody's going to love this._

As he sat down, Headmistress McGonagall told Fudge, "You may leave these premises now, Minister."

As Fudge sputtered inarticulately, Smythe-Wellington addressed the Aurors, "Ladies and gentlemen, kindly escort the Minister off Hogwarts grounds."

Slowly, red-robed wizards lowered their wands, and with a furious snarl, Fudge turned and stalked out the door. The Aurors trailed out after him, but as they went, a few glanced over their shoulders at Smythe-Wellington with expressions of awe. One of them even raised his wand to his forehead in a mock-salute. She nodded.

"Bloody hell!" Ron breathed. "I think I love that woman!"

"Which one?" Neville laughed. "Smythe-Wellington or McGonagall?"

"Both, and that's _Headmistress_ McGonagall," said Ginny. She sighed sadly, "Poor Professor Dumbledore. But I think Professor McGonagall will do just fine."

"No arguments here," agreed Ron, sitting down. "Eh, Harry?"

There was no answer. They all looked around in surprise.

"Harry?"

* * *

 

Harry closed the door behind him at the side entrance to the Great Hall, then broke into a run. He couldn't take anymore. He had no idea where he was going, and didn't care, he just couldn't bear to be in the presence of a single person for a moment longer.

So he ran.

The rest of the school was deserted. The portraits were weeping softly for Professor Dumbledore, so he ran past them, trying to find some place where he wouldn't have to hear another human voice.

He couldn't take it. Dumbledore was gone. Sirius— _Sirius!_ —was in Azkaban again. Who knew when or _if_ Harry would ever see him again.

Voldemort would be coming after him sooner or later, and he had no idea what to do.

_I can't do this._

Eventually, he was in the deeper corridors where there were fewer portraits and suits of armor, but he kept going. He didn't want to see anyone. He _couldn't_ see anyone. So he went deeper.

He came to a halt somewhere very deep in the dungeons. He wondered if he was anywhere near where he'd first seen the Mirror of Erised. Probably deeper still. Maybe near the Chamber of Secrets?

He curled up on the cold, damp stones, with his arms wrapped around his knees. He didn't cry, but he almost wished he could. The pain inside him hurt too much to cry. He felt like his insides were slowly burning. With a whimpering little groan, he rocked slightly. _I'm so pathetic._

He wondered what he'd see in the Mirror of Erised if he ever found it again. _Maybe the world without me. Dumbledore wouldn't have died. Sirius...Mum...Dad...they'd all be alive. The Weasleys would be safe...maybe Percy would be alive too._

He was useless. He couldn't help anyone. He couldn't stop them from arresting Sirius. He'd fallen asleep when Dumbledore and the Order had been marching off to fight.

He didn't know how to fight Voldemort. He didn't know how to kill him.

_I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!_

"Harry?"

He gasped aloud and lurched sideways, his heart in his throat. Standing a few yards away, at the turn of the dark dungeon corridor was Ginny, looking at him with concerned eyes. Harry gulped back his initial panic and stammered, "What—what're you—how'd you get here?"

"Would you believe I asked Peeves?" she said with a dry smile. When he just stared, she nodded. "I did. And once I got down here it was easy enough to find you. When'd you learn to do that Lumos thing?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

Ginny frowned. "Harry, haven't you noticed?"

He looked around in confusion, then it dawned on him. He'd gone charging into the deepest, darkest part of the dungeon with neither lantern nor lit wand, but hadn't had any trouble seeing, because...his whole _body_ was glowing!

As soon as he realized it, the light vanished, plunging both him and Ginny into blackness. "Oh, bother," she muttered. _"Lumos."_ Light from the tip of her wand re-illuminated their small patch of corridor. When Harry didn't speak, she came slowly to kneel in front of him. "Look, I...I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, I was just worried. Ron and Hermione panicked when you disappeared."

"I just wanted to be alone," he mumbled.

Ginny nodded. "I figured, but...well, I just thought maybe you shouldn't." He stared at her, and she hastily raised her hands, making him wince in the light from her wand. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to intrude. We're just worried about you. We know how upset you are."

Harry sat back against the wall, resting his chin on his knees and looking away from her. That stupid lump was in his throat again, and his insides were burning more fiercely than ever. How could he explain to her how much he hated himself? How much he hated being alive. How could she understand that?

Then her hand came to rest gently on his back, and to his utter humiliation, he sobbed. Ginny wrapped her arms around him, and it was too late to keep her from catching him, so he just let her hug him, biting his lips to hold back a howl of misery. She was kind of like her mum in the way she held him, and yet...not. Ginny just rested her chin on top of his head and didn't say anything while he shook and tried not to let her hear him sobbing.

Keeping his face lowered so she couldn't see (not that he was fooling her, but he still had to try), he wiped his eyes with his hands, trying to sniffle quietly. "All right?" she murmured.

"Uh-huh," he managed, and to his relief, his voice was almost steady.

Ginny gently patted his back, and he felt steady enough to sit up again and say thanks for putting up with his blubbering.

Except that his nose was only about one inch from hers, her brown eyes very large in the light from her wand...

_Oh, lord, not steady anymore!_

She blinked. He blinked. _Say something, you bloody idiot, say something...ohhh..._ He couldn't stop staring at her face. Her mouth was slightly open; apparently she was as surprised as he was. He could see little strands of her red hair on the side of her face illuminated by the wand, catching the light, brushing against the light freckles on her pale skin, and...

Somehow, their faces had gotten even closer, and it seemed the natural thing to do...the only thing to do...

Some moments later, Ginny's wand went out. They broke apart, startled, and Ginny swore under her breath. He heard her fumbling, and tried to take a minute to get his spinning mind under control. He'd had his eyes shut for a minute there, but now he found himself wanting to see her face in the light again...

Dim light returned to the corridor. Ginny gasped. "How'd you do that!"

Harry's hands were glowing. "Wow," he rasped. "I...dunno." He held his hands up. "Weird."

Ginny put her hand over one of his, waving it back and forth to see the effect of the light on her skin. "I kind of like it."

There, he could see her face again, but the light wasn't close enough...the next thing he knew, he was holding his hands up to either side of Ginny's face, fascinated in a very strange way about the way the wandless Lumos from his hands lit up her skin and her hair and her brown eyes, and then her face was coming closer to him again, and he was actually _touching_ her cheeks, and...

They broke apart again. This time, because Harry had realized what he was doing. "Oh my g...Ginny, I'm...I'm sorry!"

Reaching for her wand, Ginny stared at him. "Sorry?"

"I—I mean—I didn't mean to...uh..." Harry babbled, his face turning red. He lowered his hands, and Ginny lit the tip of her wand, frowning at him. "I didn't mean to...touch you like that, I mean...not that I didn't...I just..."

Ginny relaxed a little. "Harry, it's not like I wasn't...uh..."

"Yeah," Harry muttered. "I just...I don't want to..." Merlin's beard, his face was _burning._ He hoped she couldn't see it in the dim light. "I donwannahurtyou," he mumbled.

Ginny dropped her eyes. "I guess maybe the timing was a little bad."

"I—yeah, I shouldn't have—"

"Don't apologize," she sighed.

"I mean, I—wait!" he caught her arm without thinking. "I like you! I do, I just...shouldn't have done...that...here...now, when I was just...upset. I mean...youjusdeservebetter."

There was water dripping steadily somewhere nearby, and Ginny stared at him. Then, slowly, she began to smile. "Oh. Okay. Well, I, er, I'm glad you think so, but I was upset too." At his puzzled expression, she bristled. "I was upset about Professor Dumbledore and Sirius too. And..." she broke off, looking away from him, and he kicked himself.

_Percy—you bloody, insensitive GIT!_

"Ginny, I'm sorry! I should've seen..." without even thinking, he grabbed her and hugged her, and felt her shudder in his arms.

"'s okay," she mumbled. "Happens sometimes, I dunno what'll bring it on." She sniffled. "Really, you don' have to—oh, bother." She sniffled again. "You don't have to feel like you were, you know, using me. I mean...I needed, you know..."

"Comfort?" he asked, feeling blood rush to his face again.

"Yeah," she laughed nervously. Then she took a deep breath and stepped back, shyly putting a hand on his cheek. "I did come here to try and make you feel better."

"Well, it worked. I mean, er, you did," Harry said, grinning sheepishly.

She definitely blushed at that, and smiled back. "Well, now I feel better too." The smile left her face, and she cautiously stepped toward him. Harry swallowed hard, stepped toward her, and her wand clattered to the floor, plunging them into darkness.

Ginny snickered. So did he.

* * *

 

Quite some time later, they were hurrying back out of the dungeons. "I hope you know where we are, because I don't," Harry muttered.

"I think I do," Ginny replied. "We're down near those old sections Filch always said students got tortured in for detention."

"That doesn't help much," he said dryly.

Ginny peered around a corner and beckoned to him. "I think..." she murmured, "we're not...too...far..." she peered down a side corridor, "from Snape's office. I just hope he's not back from the hospital wi—"

They both spotted the light emanating from around the bend in the corridor up ahead and fell silent. Harry put out their light, and they carefully crept ahead. _Snape,_ he mouthed at Ginny.

"With his door open?" she whispered, looking doubtful. Harry grimaced in agreement, and they inched their way through the darkness. "There might be another way around."

"Hang on," he whispered, motioning her back. She frowned, but waited, and he crept ahead. Cautiously, he peered around the corner.

It was indeed the corridor where Snape's office was located; Harry could see his door. And he could see the black-robed figure huddled in front of it. There was a white mask by the figure's feet. He must have stiffened, because Ginny was suddenly right behind him, peering around his shoulder.

The figure had a small lantern burning beside him, and all Harry could see were two pale hands wrapped around the black cloth, as though the figure had drawn his knees up to his chest. Snape's office door was closed, and there was no sign of him...

There were footsteps coming down the corridor from the other direction. Ginny grabbed his arm, and Harry did a quick Disillusionment Charm on them both. The figure in front of the office door moved as the noises came closer.

It was Snape, still moving stiffly from his previous injuries. Harry readied his wand in case the Death Eater tried to harm the Potions Master, but Snape already had his wand out. He stopped several yards from the robed figure on the floor, and waited until the as-yet-unknown Death Eater stumbled to his feet.

As he did, his black hood slipped back, and Harry and Ginny both stiffened.

"Well?" Snape said quietly, his face carefully neutral. "What do you want?"

Draco Malfoy drew a shaky breath that echoed in the corridor. The words he spoke, in a small, desperate voice, echoed even louder.

"I want out."


	40. Three Little Words

If there was one thing that Severus Snape would always remember about March 3rd, 1981, it was how brilliant and large the full moon had been that night. He had been certain that the entire population of Hogwarts could see him coming as he walked up the Hogsmeade road to the castle.

The moon was beautiful with the castle silhouetted in front of it. And even with all that light behind it, the castle windows still glowed like a beacon of hope.

He quashed that thought at once. He had no hope, nor was he looking for it. He had never dared to hope, and still managed to be disappointed by life. God knew how much disappointment there would be for him if he did hope.

But he kept on walking, and eventually found himself standing outside the doors of the castle, hiding in the shadows like some evil creature of the night. Which, he supposed, he was.

He was still seeking the strength to knock—for the doors had not opened for him—when one of the smaller doors opened, and standing there, the moonlight aglow on his light blue robes, stood Albus Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Severus," said the headmaster, as though he were receiving an unexpected visit for tea from an old friend, rather than a student who had left Hogwarts with expressions of contempt and not set foot in the place for three years. "What may I do for you this evening?"

Severus took a deep breath, and stepped off the precipice. "I want out."

* * *

 

Draco Malfoy, heir apparent to the most powerful pureblood family in wizarding Britain, had no sooner choked out his purpose for being there when he collapsed into Snape's arms, quivering like the most pitiful Muggle during a Death Eater raid. Severus held the boy upright with one arm and flung his office door open with the other, pulling the boy inside. He deposited Draco in the nearest chair, neatly removing the wand from his pocket in the same motion.

He might make a fool of himself at times, but he would never be taken for one.

Draco was silent as Severus brought lantern and incriminating mask into his office and closed and locked the door. Draco's wand went into a locked desk drawer as Severus sat down. "You were at the Fortress," he said. Severus hadn't seen him, but it was not a question.

The boy nodded. His face was colorless and dirty. His gray eyes were red-rimmed and brimming with frightened tears, but Severus kept his face carefully neutral. It was time to hear Draco Malfoy's tale. "It...wasn't like I thought it would be," he mumbled, his head hanging. "A battle, they said there'd be...but I...didn't know."

"Didn't know what?"

Draco raised his eyes to meet Snape's. "Blood," he choked out. "It's like the raids, only...worse."

_Yes, it is._

"They said the raids are...are fun, but..." Draco stared at his white hands, and Severus knew what the boy was seeing on them. "The smell," he murmured. "I hate it. Blood, and...other things. The noise. They don't stop screaming and crying and gurgling until they're dead, and it takes them forever to die."

_Yes, it does._

"It's so...by the time it's over, every time, no matter how little a fight they put up, I was always so...dirty. Blood and...dirt, and...sweat, it just...always get so dirty." Draco's mouth twisted in disgust. "I don't know enough Cleaning Charms, I guess."

_That's because there are none to serve that purpose._

"It's just so...they said a battle would be different!" Draco went on plaintively. "They wanted us all to be part of it, they said! They said it would be glorious and," he looked sickened. "They said we'd win," he muttered. "God, there was so much blood, so much screaming, the smell...I couldn't, I just...it was them _and_ us this time. I saw MacNair get hit with some kind of Burning Hex—it might've been _Incendio_ _—_ and he just..."

Severus saw the boy's face turn green, and he quickly conjured a bucket. Draco was sick for several minutes, and Severus brought him some water. All without saying a word.

"I saw him die, I saw...I couldn't—I didn't fight," Draco whispered. "I don't think I got off a Stunner, I just stood there, and then—then I ran, and I tried to hide, but he...I saw him...he saw me, and he...he just _smiled!_ He just smiled at me and walked away! I had a mask, but he knew it was me!"

_Dumbledore._

Draco looked at him in confusion. "Why would he let me go?"

Quietly, Severus told his charge, "Because he was a man of honor."

"Was?" Severus nodded. Draco stared at his desk. "The Dark Lord killed him." Severus nodded again. "How?"

"I don't know. I did not see it."

"Professor...am I a coward?"

* * *

 

Dumbledore actually turned his back on Severus as he led the way down the halls of Hogwarts to the Headmaster's Office. As if he didn't know Severus was a Death Eater. As if he didn't know the things Severus had done.

It was not until the office door had closed behind them both that Severus demanded, "Aren't you concerned I might be a Death Eater plant!"

Dumbledore looked at him and smiled, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "No. I trust you."

Severus simply stood there, his mouth hanging half-open like a complete idiot. _Why in God's name would you trust ME, you old fool!_

"Because you have always been, and remain, a man of honor," Dumbledore answered the words Snape hadn't spoken, and continued to answer questions Severus hadn't even managed to think up yet. "I know, my dear Severus, because I was your teacher for seven years, and because our lines of intelligence into your...circle are not completely without success." He smiled more gently, reaching out as if to shake Snape's hand. "I have been hoping for some time that we had not lost you."

"And you'd welcome me back?" Severus demanded. "After all the things I've done?" He was completely confused, and there were few things Severus Snape hated more than being confused. Confusion was frustration, and it was frustration that moved him to yank back the sleeve of his robe. "Do you not know what this means, you daft old madman?" he demanded, bearing the skull and snake on his arm to the light, and the old man's eyes.

Dumbledore didn't even look at it. "It means you have been lost for a very long time. But it does not mean you can never find your way again."

"Spare me the platitudes, damn it! What do you want from me?" Severus snapped.

"What do you want from me?"

"I told you: I want out."

The headmaster chuckled. "Yes, yes, that part I grasped. But you have already taken that for yourself. You have walked away." He met the younger man's eyes, and Severus found it very hard to breathe. He knew when he was being Legilimized—the Dark Lord did it all the time—but this wasn't it. Dumbledore was not attempting to search his thoughts for truth or lies or intelligence about Death Eater plans. But Severus felt that the headmaster was peering into his soul. "What is it you have come to ask of me?"

He had little breath for his voice, as though he had spent it all running a very long way.

"I want my freedom."

"Ah." With gentle hands, Dumbledore actually took Snape's arm and turned it, exposing the Dark Mark for the light again. "Have you ever learned any Muggle history, Severus?" He didn't wait for an answer—asking a Death Eater if they knew anything about Muggle culture was a patently stupid thing to do—but explained, "For generations, the darkest of human beings have placed their mark upon their prisoners. This is indeed the symbol of your captivity."

"I walked into it willingly enough," Severus replied, pulling his arm away.

"So many do. The best jailers are the ones whose victims never realize they are walking into a trap until it seems too late to escape. The mark is a symbol, a reminder to the prisoner of the captor's claim. It is a frightening thing, to deny what seems scored into your flesh," Dumbledore said to him. Severus was beginning to feel distinctly light-headed, and half-wondered if he himself had walked into a trap. "Won't you sit down?" Dumbledore indicated the chair facing his desk.

Severus sat. "I appreciate the sentiments, but there must be something you want from me. Something to prove myself," he muttered. Dumbledore's Phoenix was regarding him solemnly from its perch, but when Severus looked back, it flipped its wings and returned to preening, totally uninterested in him.

_Story of my life._

"Why don't you begin by telling me, Severus?" Dumbledore said.

He blinked. "Telling you what?"

"The story, of course."

"Oh. All right." Severus took a deep breath. Fair enough, he supposed, that Dumbledore would want to know how he'd walked into the Dark Lord's "trap."

* * *

 

"I guess it...it was about Potter," Draco said. He shot a nervous glance at Severus, but the man did not react, and he went on. "At least that's the way I thought of it. And Dad—he said that was good. It'd give me a focus. So when I...when I...was working...on the raids, I imagined it was Potter. Madam Lestrange kept telling me it was only a matter of time—till I got to Potter, and I should just think of this as practice."

_I remember._

"At first it was easy," Draco murmured, staring at nothing. "I could almost see him when I..." He shook his head. "I felt powerful. I felt stronger than him—for the first time. The Dark Lord, and Dad, and the others, they all said this would make me more powerful."

_They said it would be my revenge._

"For being shown up..."

_For all the humiliation..._

"He was bloody making my life miserable!" the boy whined, and Severus managed to keep the scorn off his face.

_Child, as irritating as Potter is, you cannot begin to comprehend how miserable he COULD have made you, had he been more like his father._

"Anyway...that's how it started. It was easy at first, just thinking of him, but then...it got different." Draco stared at the wall, his face troubled. "And it didn't...it didn't make sense anymore. Those people...I mean, yeah, they're only Muggles, but..."

 _But. I am relieved that there is a 'but' for you._ Draco seemed to be waiting for him to respond, so he said merely, "But?"

"Well, I mean, they're just Muggles. I don't know why we had to...bother with them, I mean, why can't we just let them go and do their Muggle things? There's so many of them, it's not as if the raids do any real good for us," the boy muttered.

 _Not to mention that it isn't exactly beneficial to them either._ But Severus wasn't expecting Draco to have comprehended that angle yet. He himself had not considered that a motive for returning to Dumbledore's side at the time he had made his own decision.

Draco's motives were much as his had been—for the most part. "It's just...I never thought I'd have to... _do_ things like that! They said we'd have...power, and...and..."

"Dignity?" Severus offered delicately.

"Well, they didn't really say, but," Draco nodded. "That's what I thought. It's not dignified to always be covered in blood and dirt. I knew I'd have to bow to him, but not..crawl. We were always groveling in the mud like...rats."

_You're more right than you know._

"I thought I'd become something...more than what I'd been, but I didn't even feel...like a wizard. More like a...like a..."

"A house elf?" Severus said quietly. Draco cringed, staring at him with wide eyes. _Very like a house elf, in fact._

"That's what Henderson said," the boy muttered. Looking nervously at Severus, he said, "The first time I was in the Fortress during a...during a..."

"Murder?"

"He was a half-blood," Draco explained. "His father—an Auror, married a Muggle and arrested our people. So we—they—we were supposed to teach him a lesson, so...we made him watch while we...his son and his wife. Henderson—the Head Boy—he said I was their house elf. I..." he swallowed hard. "I thought I was more then, but as it went on, I...was always crawling. Following orders. Getting filthy." Draco shook his head in confusion. "I don't feel powerful anymore. Just like a...a slave. Or a house elf. Crawling at their feet, doing what they say, getting covered in blood and filth..." with a massive shudder, the boy whispered, "I can't do it." He looked desperately at Severus. "I don't want to do it."

Severus watched him for several moments. "And why have you come to me?"

"Because...you told me I had a choice. My father...he never told me that."

 _No one ever told me I had a choice either._ _Not even my Head of House._

* * *

 

"I imagine he asked you to do many things," said Dumbledore, putting a cup of tea on the desk in front of Severus.

"I expected that. I'm not afraid of getting my hands dirty. I've never been," Snape replied, not touching the cup.

Dumbledore smiled, with a look of what might have been affection. "Ah yes, of course. You are quite the Potions Master, after all. No person with skills such as yours would fear getting dirty."

Severus glared at him. "You know perfectly well I am not a Master in anything."

"Don't be silly, Severus, you had reached the level of Mastery by the time you left Hogwarts. I have no doubt your skills have anything but deteriorated in the past three years. You have a fine mind."

Severus sprang from his seat, pacing the room restlessly as Dumbledore's Phoenix watched. "A fine mind! If you knew the things I had used it for, the plans I have helped bring to fruition, the...the brews I have concocted..."

"You have a brilliant mind, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted him, in a voice of absolute conviction. Severus stared at him in disbelief at the compliment, as the headmaster went on, "You are a brilliant young man, just as you have always been."

"I have used these skills you praise to kill and maim, old man. I doubt if you have the stomach to hear of the things I've done."

"You would be surprised the things I have seen and heard in my years, Severus. Perhaps even you would be given pause by some of the things I have witnessed," said Dumbledore. "But if you wish to continue thinking of me as soft, then by all means do so. There have been more troubling misconceptions about me."

"And you're not concerned I might try to exploit it?" Severus asked, in a half-hearted attempt to bait him.

Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. "Perhaps I am soft in my old age, my boy, but I take care to surround myself with those who can make up for my defects."

At the look the old wizard gave him, Severus was astonished. "You imagine that you have some defect _I_ can make up for!"

"Why, yes, indeed, Severus! You yourself have observed that I am a soft old man. Whereas you are brilliant and hard. Like a diamond. But your value is much greater."

"My _value?_ What is there in me that you could possibly value?"

"I've told you. You are a strong and clever man. There will always be value to be found in men like you."

Severus narrowed his eyes. Dumbledore had a point to all this, he was certain. Why was he surprised? He couldn't expect to walk away from the Dark Lord's service and into sanctuary scot-free. There would be a price. Everyone always had a price. Protection came with the highest price of all.

And yet...was there any price at this point higher than the one remaining with the Dark Lord would exact from him?

He took a deep breath, and met the old man's eyes. "What do you want me to do?"

Dumbledore blinked innocently at him—too innocently. "I beg your pardon?"

 _Calm_. He forced himself to breathe. He hated being toyed with. "I am prepared to do whatever you want in exchange for sanctuary," he said, slowly and carefully, glaring hotly at the top of the headmaster's desk. "Name your terms for a Death Eater's surrender."

Dumbledore laughed at him. Snape's head shot up involuntarily. "Severus, I wonder that you are so eager to depart Lord Voldemort's service if you are so certain I'm going to demand your life for your sins!"

"I never said I thought you'd kill me," he muttered petulantly, like a scolded student.

"No, you're expecting to give a full confession, followed by Azkaban. Perhaps, in your mind, that's worse than your life," Dumbledore said, more soberly. He regarded Severus and shook his head. "And yet you're prepared to do it, aren't you?"

"I said I was. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't." Severus tried to keep a scowl on his face to hide the anxiety twisting up his guts. It was coming; he could feel it. "Well? What do you want?"

"The same thing you do," Dumbledore replied.

Severus let out his breath in a rush of frustration. _"What?"_

"Your freedom."

* * *

 

"Am I going to go to Azkaban?" Draco asked timidly.

Severus looked him in the eyes and spoke with a confidence he did not entirely feel. "No. You haven't gained your freedom from the Dark Lord only to lose it to the Ministry."

_That was what Dumbledore told me._

Except that there was no Dumbledore to protect Draco as he had protected Snape. There was no Dumbledore to quietly arrange for Draco's sanctuary. There was no Dumbledore to understand, no Dumbledore to listen to Draco's story. No Dumbledore to deal out second chances.

Not that Severus did not trust McGonagall. But she was not Dumbledore.

_There could never be—enough. Keep your eye on your objective, man._

Forcing his attentions away from the distracting emotions twisting his insides, Severus told his charge, "We will arrange for your protection. You will not return to him."

"What about my father?"

This would be the hardest part to explain. "Just as you made your choice, your father made his, Draco. I cannot force him to see reason. Perhaps in time, it will be possible to bring him around, but now it is too dangerous for you." Severus leaned forward against his desk, piercing the boy's gray eyes. "I will not mince words in this. If you want to survive, you must do precisely as I instruct you."

He stared Draco down for several long moments, until the young Slytherin dropped his gaze and mumbled, "Okay."

 _Not good enough._ "I am in earnest, Draco. After tonight, there is no turning back."

Something in the boy's eyes flashed, some echo of that old Malfoy pride. Severus was more relieved than he dared let on to see that it had not been completely crushed. It was too great an asset for Draco to lose, not to mention too important an aspect of the boy's personality. But he kept a straight face when Draco tightened his jaw and said coldly, "How do you know it isn't already too late for me to turn away from the Dark Lord?"

_Let the ugly lessons begin..._

Severus walked deliberately around his desk, noticing how Draco's breathing quickened, though the boy made a valient effort not to show his apprehension. With more slow deliberation, he extended his own arm, his hand balled into a fist, and roughly pulled up his sleeve.

The Dark Mark burned black and ugly in his flesh, the skin around it red and angry from the constant irritation. The Dark Lord had made his displeasure over Snape's treason known with persistent pain in that brand.

Draco's eyes were fixed on the Mark. Without lowering the branded arm, Severus held out his other hand and made Draco extend his arm. Pulling up the sleeve, he exposed Draco's own, unmarked flesh.

"It is never too late to walk away," he told the boy quietly. Draco swallowed convulsively. "His mark brands us all as his property, his servants, to the entire world. But I do not serve him." Covering the Mark, he tightened his grip on Draco's bared arm as the boy attempted to pull away. "You bear no brand of his yet, Draco. Your flesh remains your own."

Draco shuddered violently, and Severus released him. Without looking up, Draco mumbled, "I'll do whatever you—" he was cut off by a massive yawn, "—whatever you say, sir." Blinking wearily at Snape, he sighed, "I don't want to be his...his slave anymore."

"I'm glad," Severus told him quietly. "You deserve better than that. You are capable of more than that." The boy blinked, startled by the compliment, and Severus noted again his red-rimmed eyes. "When was the last time you slept?"

Shaking his head absently, Draco said, "I dunno, was my last night in Hogwarts..."

Almost forty-eight hours, then, Severus concluded. He motioned Draco to his feet and led him down the hall to his quarters. After summoning some house elves to prepare his rooms for a guest (and threatening them into silence), he examined Draco for any signs of injury from the battle. "I hid through most of it," Draco admitted, red-faced.

"Good. You had no business being a part of it," Severus said bluntly. The house elves had finished, and he sent Draco into the newly-prepared guest room. "Change and bring that robe and mask to me," he ordered. "Then go to bed. We will make the arrangements for your long-term protection when you've rested."

Draco obeyed without question, and when he came from the guest room in his dressing gown to deliver the robe and mask, Severus pressed a Dreamless Sleep Potion on him. The next few days would be difficult, and Draco would need a full night's sleep.

Once Draco had retired, Severus sat in his sitting room staring into the fire. He would have to bring this to McGonagall. There would be no hiding Draco at Hogwarts without her help. Nor was she likely to accede without a full explanation of the boy's involvement with the Dark Lord. How would she respond to Snape's request to give Draco sanctuary?

Of course, Severus had not known what to expect from Dumbledore fifteen years ago. All he had known when he had left the Dark Lord's circle was that Hogwarts was the safest place in the wizarding world to hide. And that no one hid there without the headmaster's blessing.

_Damn you, Albus. Why did you have to go when I needed you most?_

Most? Really, when it came to it, there hadn't been a time in the past fifteen years when Severus Snape had _not_ needed Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

 

"I fear you've been taken advantage of for so long, you've forgotten what kindness is, Severus," Dumbledore said. "You should take me at my word; I will demand nothing from you in exchange for my protection."

Severus stared at his untouched teacup, now deeply troubled. Every instinct and experience in his life screamed against believing such a statement. "You said you will _demand_ nothing. That implies that you would ask something."

Dumbledore regarded him thoughtfully over the rim of his own cup. "You have great abilities. I would ask—and recommend—that you attain your intellectual potential. Your Potions Mastery, for instance." At the dubious look Severus shot him, he chuckled. "Yes, that will be no great effort for you, will it? Well, then, perhaps when you've done it, you'd consider passing your knowledge along. I will have a position opening in just over a year for a Potions professor here at Hogwarts."

Snape's mouth fell open. "You think...me... _teach?_ "

"It would be an efficient way to keep you safely at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore mildly, ignoring the younger man's shock. "But if you're disinclined—"

Severus interrupted with a shake of his head. "No. I will do it."

"Only if you are certain—"

"I said I'll do it," Severus repeated curtly. _If teaching Potions to a horde of snot-nosed brats is the price of my freedom, I'll put up with it._

And yet...

_It is not only my freedom that I must pay for._

That thought slipped out before Severus could stop it, from some unknown place in his mind that had never been very close to the surface, and that he'd had to push even further down to survive his existence in the Dark Lord's ranks. But now it whispered to him that merely buying his way _out_ of the Dark Lord's circle was not enough. In order to be accepted back _in_ to the ranks of decent men...more would be required.

It was only logical.

Silence echoed as he continued to gaze down at the desk. Dumbledore watched him patiently, his blue eyes revealing none of his thoughts, and at length Severus said, "You will need my help in your...efforts against him. I can provide information."

_Opportunists say it is wise to straddle the fence in war. But in the end, it is merely foolish. Especially in this war._

Quietly, Dumbledore gave the answer Severus expected. "I'm sure you can."

He took a deep breath. "I will help you stop him."

That little whisper came from down deep again. _It is the least I can do._

He forced himself to look up. Dumbledore was smiling. "Thank you, Severus."

_For what?_

* * *

 

"For trusting me with this," said Minerva evenly.

Severus had just called her to his rooms and related the facts of Draco Malfoy's arrival. The inscrutable woman set down her teacup and regarded him as he finished the tale.

"I could not very well protect Draco at Hogwarts without your approval," he pointed out.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "You know perfectly well that is not what I meant."

He sighed. "In any case, now you know the situation."

"Indeed."

Damn it, Dumbledore had been difficult to read in his own right to the point where Severus had wanted to strangle him, and Minerva had plenty of aggravating traits of her own. She would undoubtedly drive Snape mad within the first few weeks of her employment of him the same way her predecessor had.

_How fitting for one of his protégés._

He struggled not to sound as if he were pleading. "Will you help him?"

"Of course," Minerva replied, in a tone that chastised him for doubting that. He looked sharply at her, and she said, "Whatever you have thought in the past, Professor Snape, I bear no malice for your House—or even Draco Malfoy. And I will never refuse sanctuary to a student in danger."

She fell silent then, but they both heard her unspoken words.

_I will do as Albus would have done._

Severus breathed again. Draco would be safe here.

He and Minerva discussed the best course of action that would ensure Draco's safety, from both the Dark Lord's followers _and_ his enemies. The Ministry would be as keen to get their hands on Draco as on Potter if word got out. Discretion would be necessary, and Draco would have to adjust to a very different way of life at Hogwarts.

Then Minerva departed so that Severus could explain the situation when Draco awoke. Severus knew he should take the next few hours to get some sleep of his own, but found himself far too awake to consider it. Instead, he paced his quarters, going over in his mind the next conversation he would be having with Draco.

It was not enough that Draco had come to him for protection; Severus knew the difference between the flight in terror that motivated Draco and a genuine change of heart. _Weakness of heart is more like it, in all bluntness._ Severus understood more or less what was driving Draco's decision, because it was not all that different from what had initially driven his own.

_I might have been more accustomed at that age to getting my hands dirty, but Draco and I both found that we did not have the stomach for the Dark Lord's activities._

Down deep, Severus supposed that there had been some semblance of honor and decency inside himself, that had led him to the decisions he'd made to help Dumbledore. And now, if he was to remain honest to his own savior, it was his duty to make sure that Draco understood the REAL reasons why the Dark Lord's cause must be defeated.

And why Draco would not be permitted to stand in the way.

_You are either with us or against us, Draco._

* * *

 

And so when Draco awoke and came into the sitting room some hours later, Severus was ready for him. "I have discussed the situation with Professor McGonagall."

Picking at the breakfast brought by the house elves, Draco froze. "What'd she say?"

"She trusts my judgment," Snape told him. "If I ask her to give you sanctuary here, she will do so."

He watched the boy's face as Draco processed the nuances of what he'd said. In a low, toneless voice, Draco repeated, "If?"

Severus nodded, staring hard at the young Slytherin. " _If._ "

Draco swallowed hard, visibly rallying his wits. "What...what do I have to do?"

"You have to decide which side you are on."

The boy blinked. Severus watched calculations fly across his eyes. "I...but I'm..."

"You came to me seeking a way out, Draco, and I am prepared to offer it to you, but make no mistake—there _is_ no half way out. If you want the protection of our side, you cannot remain loyal to his."

The color drained from Draco's face. "You want me to turn on my father?"

 _Damn._ By "his," Severus had meant the Dark Lord. He should have realized Draco would take it a different way. Still... "Your father has chosen his path. Now it is time for you to choose yours. And whatever the Dark Lord has told you, those paths need not be the same." He narrowed his eyes. "And if you want the sanctuary of Hogwarts, they cannot be."

"He'd say I'm a coward for not seeing this through," Draco muttered.

"He would say anything to put you on the course he wants," Severus replied. "But the only true cowardice would be in refusing to make the choice on your own."

"I just don't want to be a slave!" the boy burst out. "I thought you said you'd help me!"

"I intend to help you," Severus said, feigning indifference to the boy's distress. "But I will not open the doors of my own cause to one who might endanger us."

The look on Draco's face was almost comical, an expression of mostly disbelief and a small measure of disgust. "Your...your... _cause?_ "

Severus leaned back, well aware that he was striking that casual dignity pose that Lucius was so good at, but left it for the moment. Draco would recognize that attitude, if not that it was affected. "The preservation of who we are, our traditions, our names. The good of wizardkind."

He knew precisely what Draco was thinking: _But that's what the Dark Lord says._

Time for Phase Two.

"I left the Dark Lord because his objective will ultimately destroy us, and everything that we are."

"What?" Draco exclaimed, astonished. "But he's trying to protect us from impurity—"

Severus cut him off with a derisive laugh. "Protect _us,_ no, Draco. His interest is in one thing and one thing only: dominance. Dominance of everything. Of us. The Dark Lord is a _half-blood_ , Draco, heir of Slytherin notwithstanding—oh, yes, that part is true; he is the heir of Salazar. But his mother, of the purest of all bloodlines, forgot everything she should have known when she married a Muggle, ignorant of wizardry. He abandoned her, and his son, Tom Riddle the half-blood, grew to be the Dark Lord."

Draco looked like a fish, his mouth hanging open, but Severus could not deride him for that. He too had gaped when Albus had told him the tale.

_Lord Voldemort's motives are not for the benefit of anyone, Severus. His motives are nothing but revenge and malice._

"Why else would he make you, a Malfoy, serve as his slave?" he pressed on. "Your father, head of the most powerful and oldest pureblood family in wizarding Europe, kneels in the mud and filth and kisses the hem of his robes. You, his heir, being trained to _serve_ rather than to _lead,_ Draco. Does that seem right to you? Does that seem consistent with all the principles you have been raised with?"

Numbly, Draco shook his head. "I don't understand," he murmured.

"The Dark Lord has skewed his teachings to you, Draco, as well as to your parents before you. To gain control of us, he lies. He lies about the true nature of what is happening in the wizarding world," Severus said, taking a sip of tea liberally dosed with firewhiskey.

"You mean we're _not_ really being overrun by Mudbloods?" Draco asked doubtfully.

"Watch your tongue; cheap epithets do not become you. No, we are not being overrun now any more than we ever were," Severus said sourly. "Not by their blood, at any rate." Seeing Draco's confusion, he said, "My objection is to the alteration of our culture. The flouting of our traditions and all that we value—THAT is what it means to be pureblood, Malfoy. Never forget it." He leaned forward and tapped the boy on the forehead. "You have been raised with more knowledge of who we are, our history, our culture, and our traditions than is ever taught at Hogwarts. For all the emphasis that the Ministry presses upon learning about Muggle culture and protecting the Muggleborns from anything unsavory, they offer us no such relief. THAT is the cause of our culture's dilution, not merely the presence of those newcomers. And we are just as much to blame as Dumbledore's type and the Muggleborns."

Draco no longer looked quite so shaken, but rather thoughtful, Severus was pleased to see. Draco Malfoy was, in spite of the protestations of Potter's lot, an intelligent young man, capable and often eager to apply his intellect to a problem. Now that Severus had lain this new set of ideas before him, he would at the very least give it consideration.

He waited, and at length, Draco frowned at him. "How are we to blame?"

"Our complacency, of course. And that so many of our finest families have cast their lot with the Dark Lord and all his talk of ultimate power and immortality, rather than concentrating on preserving our traditions against loss and disuse."

"A lot of them died at the Fortress," Draco mused.

It was all Severus could do not to bellow like a second year watching his team win at Quidditch. _Yes!_ "That too," he said calmly. "The Dark Lord will not win this war, Draco." He dared not allow any whiff of the doubts smoldering in his soul to taint his voice. Draco could learn about the complications and the deeper philosophical details later. For now he simply had to be swayed enough to not pose a threat to the Order. "The Muggleborns and half-bloods are too numerous, to say nothing of the Muggles at large. Do not think it is merely the Aurors and resisting families who must be subdued—the Dark Lord will not be satisfied with that. He will then want to move on to the entire wizarding world, then the Muggle world. For all the powers at his disposal, he is outmanned, millions to one. And mark me: some Muggles are aware of the wizarding world and the stakes in the war. They will become involved if their own existence is endangered, and while they do not have magic, they have invented enough means of defending themselves."

"Like those new-cooler weapons that Zabini keeps talking about?" Draco asked.

Severus shrugged. "I don't know the details, and it does not especially matter. The Muggle world need never become our concern if we do not make it so."

His eyes downcast, Draco nodded. "I wondered why...why he bothered. It seemed like such a waste of time, those raids. There's always more Muggles. More Muggleborns and half-bloods."

Cautiously, Severus pushed further. "You are the heir to one of the oldest, most prominent families in our world, Draco. You have been raised to hold great pride, great principles. You have been raised to _lead._ Not to follow. And you have been raised to prize honor and dignity— _that_ is where the power among the pureblood families derives. Not from brute force. We are wizards, not house elves."

Draco gave another, hesitant nod, then whispered again, "But my father..."

"Your father raised you to think for yourself. To be prepared to take the role of a leader among our people one day," Severus told him gently. "It is time you did."

"Don't think this is what he had in mind," Draco said, with a weak, mostly-humorless laugh.

Severus smiled. "When a son reaches his moment of true independence...it rarely is in the way his father had in mind. I would venture to say that it never is."

Draco took a shaky breath, his eyes focused on his hands beneath the tabletop. "I don't want to be his slave. I'll do what you want. I'll help...end the war. I mean," he glanced nervously at Snape. "If you, if they'll...let me."

"I will," said Severus, meeting the young man's eyes. "I trust you."

* * *

 

It was more difficult than Severus had expected to leave Draco alone with McGonagall that evening, so that she could "have a few words with Mr. Malfoy about his changed circumstances," as she put it. But he did trust her, and had told Draco as much, so he managed to depart the Headmistress's office with Draco still there without a backward glance.

Draco would be all right. Minerva would not bully him (not too much, anyway) and she would keep him safe and explain the new ropes to the boy. Severus needed to let Draco learn to trust and be trusted by others on their side.

Besides, it was time for Potter's Occlumency lesson.

The Gryffindor looked tired and distracted when he arrived in Snape's office, not surprisingly. And when Severus asked whether he had cleared his mind the previous night, the boy's sheepish expression said it all. "Potter, what have I told you—"

"I'm sorry, I forgot," Potter sighed, looking honestly contrite. "I was just...it wasn't really emotional, by nighttime anyway, I was just...thinking hard."

No need to ask what about, but Potter told him anyway. "Just thinking about what we need to do to make Sirius's case."

Severus fired a burst of Legilimency at him, but the boy managed after about thirty seconds to push him out. Lowering his wand, he said, "The Minister of Magic is facing serious political repercussions from the attempt to arrest you, as well as the trial. His administration cannot afford a finding of Black's innocence. He is driving forward with the claim that Black infiltrated our side and Confunded you to win your affections."

Potter growled, but saw Severus raise his wand, and quickly cleared his mind—so that it took a few seconds longer than usual to break in. But Potter managed after that to push him out again.

"Better. Concentrate. Be prepared for an attack at any time," he said, attacking the boy again.

This time, Potter reacted quicker, pushing him out, and recovered more quickly as well. "Will Fudge try to stop Professor McGonagall from being confirmed as Headmistress after what happened yesterday?"

"It does not appear so. He is too set on Black. As far as I know, he is not leaning on the Board of Governors," Severus replied, too conscious of his own relief on that score to tell Potter to mind his own business. If Minerva were not confirmed...Draco would be in serious danger. But it seemed there was no chance of that now. "To try to influence the choice of Headmaster of Hogwarts might be seen as trying to take advantage of Dumbledore's death."

To his surprise, Harry flinched. He did not attack then, too curious as to what ailed the boy, and Potter glanced at him and muttered, "I wonder if Dumbledore knew that."

Just like Dumbledore had known what Severus was able—and willing—to do to bring about the defeat of the Dark Lord's side. For all the Headmaster had beaten about the bush with talk of Potions Mastery and teaching, he had undoubtedly known from the very beginning that Severus would end up his spy.

Surprising himself this time, Severus gave a quiet snort that was almost a chuckle. "There is little doubt, in my experience."

Potter smiled, lowering his wand completely, and while Severus knew he should attack, he did not. "Mine too."

"I had vastly more experience with Albus Dumbledore than you, Potter," Snape pointed out, but he found there was little rancor behind his words.

Again, Potter smiled, that sad, almost wistful smile. And he met Snape's eyes. "Yeah, but I think I probably had enough to know too."

He meant to experience Dumbledore's...way of accomplishing things. Severus could not deny it. No, he and Harry Potter had both spent many years of their lives rolling along as tumbleweeds in the wind of Albus Dumbledore's influence.

Yet another of the strange parallels that always seemed to force him alongside the son of James Potter.

_Parallels?_

Severus forgot Potter was even there for a moment as he considered, then fought the urge to damn Albus yet again. _Yes, there have been many parallels between my life and Harry Potter's, though perhaps they are not as strange and coincidental as I have always assumed._

When he looked back at the boy, Harry was staring at him with an expression of equal amazement. "Do you think he..." he broke off, frowning.

Severus shook his head, in that sense of half-amused, half-mortified resignation that always results from discovering how easily one has been manipulated. "There is very little that Albus Dumbledore did not...have a hand in," he said wearily.

The boy's expression suggested that he was feeling that same thing at the moment. "And he always gets his way...well, most of the time, anyway." There was too much truth in that statement for Snape to do anything but nod. "I'll miss him."

Harry was not really looking at Severus by then, too lost in his own memories and contemplations, but for a brief moment, Severus looked directly at him. There was artless honesty in the boy's green eyes, the sort of expression that James Potter had never (and in Severus's opinion, would never have) worn. It was not really the war, when it came to it; Severus could recall the first few times in the boy's first year that he had seen him, and Harry Potter, although he had James Potter's face, had never quite comported himself like his father. James Potter had never worn his emotions so openly. He would have been better at Occlumency.

Albus had said that. More than once, come to think of it. Albus never said anything unless he thought the listener might one day be persuaded of its truth.

 _"I'll miss him,"_ Potter had said.

_As will I._


	41. The Trial of Sirius Black, Part I

The grey stone walls dripped with moisture, their individual stones streaked with noxious mold. Harry shivered, chilled to the bone by the dampness and revolted by the smell. The hallways reeked of centuries of decay and the heavy burden of depression. His stomach clenched at the thought that Sirius was confined here again, away from warmth and sunlight, away from _him_.

Fear seemed to leach from the walls itself. It was all Harry could do to keep walking, but his feet continued to move, slowly, one step and then another, carrying him in a trancelike state toward a cell he knew contained his godfather. How he knew, he could not say.

He reached his destination, the heavy, reinforced door that blocked the entrance to the cell where Sirius was being held until trial. Harry stopped in front of it, and glanced around for a guard. No one was in evidence; in fact, he seemed to be the only person in this area of the prison. He put a hand out and gave the door a tentative push. The door swung open silently, effortlessly. Holding his breath, Harry stepped into the cell. A figure stood alone in the center of the room, features hidden by a dark, hooded cloak, the train of which covered a good portion of the floor in the small space.

A Dementor! But...the Dementors weren't supposed to be in Azkaban anymore! What was this one doing here?

"Where's Sirius Black?" His heart pounding in his chest, Harry barely managed to croak out the question.

The figure made no move toward Harry, and Harry stood there, frozen in panic. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. Then a cold, voice, raspy like Voldemort's, echoed through the empty cell. "Sirius Black has been executed."

Then the figure turned. It was not a Dementor. Beneath the hood was a skeletal face, empty eye sockets, white mouth pulled back in a malevolent grin.

It was not a Dementor. The creature in Sirius's cell was Death.

"Ahhhhhhh! No! No!" Harry came bolt upright, scrambling out of bed and lunging for the door, only to be slammed to the floor by the weight of another person.

"Bloody hell! What is it?"

"Screaming like a bloody Banshee!"

"Harry! Is it a vision?"

The sight of Ron's face broke through the panicked fog that clouded his mind. "Sirius—dead—executed—" His throat closed. He could only grip Ron's arms. Seamus and Neville stared at him with white faces.

"No, Harry, no! It's a dream. He's alive!" Ron shook him, trying to get through. "It's not like last time. He's going to have a trial!" Ron shook him again. "He's protected. McGonagall won't let them hurt him."

The other boys around him were nodding and murmuring in agreement. Neville reached over and patted his shoulder. "Listen to him, Harry. Just a dream, like he says."

A feeling of relief rushed through him, so intense that Harry was glad he was on the floor. If he'd been standing, he knew his legs would never have supported him. He took a deep breath and managed a shaky nod at his friends.

"Sorry about that. It was so real..." He couldn't finish.

"S'okay," Seamus replied. "We had to get up anyway." He and Neville headed off to the bathrooms, Seamus muttering something about, "Could think of better noise to wake up to."

Harry turned back to Ron, who hadn't moved from his side. "I need to talk to Snape...about the dream...about Sirius."

"Snape? You think it's Voldemort?"

Sitting back on the floor against the side of his bed, Harry thought about it, then sighed. "I don't know. Maybe not. Could've been just a...nightmare, I guess." He looked at his friend and said, "Maybe Remus, then. There's..." He caught himself, unsure if he should say what he was thinking.

Ron frowned at him. "What?"

Taking a deep breath, Harry admitted, "I really want to see Sirius. I've been wondering if I can get Remus to take me."

"Dunno, mate. They say Azkaban's a pretty nasty place."

"I know, and Sirius told Remus he doesn't want me to ever see it," Harry sighed, dropping his head onto his knees. "I just...I want to talk to him so much. And it could be days, weeks before the trial; I'll go mad by then."

Ron nodded, his face grim. "Don't blame you, though you'll have a time talking Remus into it. He got back from the Ministry last night. Come on." He hauled himself to his feet and held out a hand to Harry, pulling him up. "Let's get Hermione and Ginny and go to breakfast."

Negotiating the halls of Hogwarts struck Harry as something akin to running a gauntlet. He supposed by now that he should be used to the whispers and covert glances that followed him. But just as they reached the doors of the Hall, he heard the name "Sirius Black" hissed out, and he froze. Before he could turn to identify the speaker, Ron stepped up next to him.

"Let it go, mate." Ron's face was set, and Hermione's anxious eyes watched him as he led the way to the Gryffindor table. They took seats, and were greeted by the others around them.

Hermione picked up her usual piece of toast and took a small bite, watching as Ron pushed food around on the plate with his fork. She sighed, "Ron, try to eat something."

For a moment, anger flashed across his face as he turned towards her, then the set look returned. "Yeah. Sure, Hermione." He picked up the fork and took a mouthful of eggs.

Harry looked at Ginny, who was staring at her brother, distress visible on her face. Thinking of the night before last, he cautiously reached over and took her hand in his. She gave him a slight smile, her eyes red. She'd been crying last night. Ginny cried often; Harry was well aware. Quiet tears would fall when they talked about Percy. Her grief was open, and somehow to Harry, that seemed natural and right. But Ron...

Harry felt a little twist of confused worry inside as he watched his friend. Ron had appeared to be handling things all right immediately after Percy's death, but that changed as the days went by. He seemed to be functioning automatically, his emotions held in so tightly that the real Ron couldn't get past. It was weird, seeing a Ron who didn't rant about Slytherins and the war, fret about Quidditch, and think about nothing but food. _Maybe I should talk to Remus about that too.._

His thoughts about his friend were interrupted as the mail was delivered, owls swooping low over the tables. A large brown owl, bearing a very official-looking scroll, from which hung a large ornate seal, made its way to the head table. All eyes watched as the owl delivered its burden to Professor McGonagall. The other professors leaned forward in their seats. Harry admired the dignified manner with which she took the scroll, pausing to reward the owl and watching it fly out of the hall, before breaking the seal.

Her eyes scanned the contents of the scroll, and then she looked towards Snape and gave a slight nod. He turned and addressed the assembled students.

"Students, silence! Pay attention."

Professor McGonagall rose, the scroll in her hand. Her voice was steady. "Per the decision of the Board of Govenors, I have been officially confirmed as Headmistress of Hogwarts. This school has been through difficult...terribly difficult times recently, but I assure you that we shall continue to provide excellence in Wizarding education, in accordance with our long and rich tradition."

With that, she resumed her seat, and the other professors rose to come forward and congratulate her. Almost as one, the student body rose and applause rang through the hall.

* * *

 

Attempting to concentrate on classwork for the remainder of the morning proved futile, as different plans and plots for persuading Remus to take him to Azkaban, raced through Harry's mind. He spared a momentary thought to hope that Hermione would be willing to help him with the class material later. Momentary only, for he was sure that she would cooperate with anything that had to do with saving Sirius.

Harry planned to escape his friends at lunch and avoid having them accompany him to see Remus. He couldn't exactly explain to Ron that he was consulting Remus about _him_ , nor could he risk having Hermione forestall his attempt to persuade Remus to take him along on his next visit to Sirius.

His initial attempt to sneak away met with immediate failure, as Ron was waiting outside the door of the classroom when Harry exited. Hermione came out right behind him, and he was well and truly trapped between them.

"Right," said Harry, a little too brightly. "Thought I'd skip lunch. You know...stuff to do."

Hermione shot him a look that brooked no dissension. "You'll skip lunch, but for something more important. Come with me, and don't argue." Ron looked as bewildered as Harry felt, so they fell in line beside Hermione as she marched them off through the hallways, stopping when they came to the door of an unused classroom. Ginny was peering out the door, her anxious face relaxing into a grin when she saw them. "Perfect. She's here, and we're ready to go."

Harry followed Hermione into the room and heard Ron shut the door behind them. It was an empty lecture classroom, with rows of long tables facing a center desk. Perched on the desk, swinging her leg, a disgruntled expression on her face, was Rita Skeeter. On seeing him, her eyes widened behind her gaudy glasses. "Well, well. Harry Potter. Things are getting interesting." She frowned as Hermione came forward, and turned back to Harry. "Your tyrannical little friend promised me that this trip would be worth my while. So—what have you got?"

At a loss as to what he was supposed to say, Harry glanced at Hermione. She gave Rita a tight smile and said, "Harry is going to give you a statement about the innocence of Sirius Black."

Rita grimaced. "You brought me out here for that? _Everyone_ heard him say that the day Dumbledore died. I'd be lucky if I could get the Quibbler to carry it!"

"Great idea," Ginny responded. "Ron, how about seeing if you can find Luna, and we'll kill two birds with one stone."

"Don't bother," Rita snapped. "I'm leaving. You've wasted my time."

Hermione stepped in front of her. "You're missing the point, Rita. Everyone heard what Harry yelled, but you, Rita Skeeter, are going to have the exclusive interview with Harry Potter. In fact, you're the _only_ reporter he'll talk to. Isn't that right, Harry?" Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione went on. "You know, Rita, this trial is going to be followed very closely...verrry closely...and anyone who wants to know how Sirius Black and Harry Potter are dealing with it will have to come to you."

Ginny jumped in. "Not only the Daily Prophet, but the other smaller papers _and_ the weekly magazines will be lining up to get the exclusive story from Rita Skeeter!"

Rita, by then, had stopped in her tracks. She slowly turned around, smiling greedily. "Now that's more like it." She pulled out her pad and quill. "Talk to me, Harry."

They pulled up chairs and sat in a group in front of her. Harry gave her the story of what had happened to Sirius since he escaped from Azkaban, leaving out any references to the Order of the Phoenix. He described the confrontation between Sirius, Remus, and Pettigrew, mentioning Pettigrew's confession to the murder of the Muggles in the street, as well as his admission that he'd given Harry's parents up to Voldemort.

Rita's quill stopped scratching as she stared in astonishment. "You mean to tell me that you've actually seen Pettigrew alive!"

"The three of us have," Harry replied, indicating himself, Ron, and Hermione, "and I saw him again the night Voldemort," Rita flinched and dropped her quill, "returned. Pettigrew is working for him."

Rita snatched up the quill, and it began racing across the pad. "So, Pettigrew is a dark wizard, sold his best friends to You-Know-Who to be slaughtered and framed another—great angle. I'll have my readers weeping for Sirius Black."

"You don't need to sensationalize it. It's a wild enough story as it is," cautioned Hermione.

Rita's lips compressed into a thin line. "You just let me handle the writing, dear." She jumped off the table and pocketed the pad and quill. "Your word, Mr. Potter. You talk to no other reporter, but me."

"That's right," responded Harry. "So long as you make sure that you sway public opinion to side with Sirius."

Rita grinned as she made for the door. "Just watch for the fireworks! Ta!" She headed out.

Ron was staring after her. "Wow. Hermione, do you think that was a good idea?"

Hermione nodded. "Oh yes. The power of the press. Right now, we need to use everything we've got to help Sirius." She stood lost in thought for a moment, then smiled. "I'll talk to Headmistress McGonagall. I bet I can persuade her to make Rita Skeeter the only reporter that Hogwarts staff will talk to!"

Harry had to grin. "I'm glad you're working for us, Hermione."

Ron put an arm around her as they left the classroom, looking smug. "That's my girl."

* * *

**_EXTRA! Sirius Black: An Innocent Man Framed By You-Know-Who's Followers!  
_ ** **_Harry Potter tells Black's story in this Rita Skeeter exclusive!_ **

"Bloody hell, that woman works fast," Neville muttered, impressed when the _Daily Prophet_ arrived during dinner. "This is all true?"

Harry nodded absently. He could see Remus at the head table, talking to McGonagall. He knew Remus would be going to visit Sirius again in the next few days, and the longer Harry thought about it, the more determined he was to go along.

_I have to see Sirius._

He wasn't even quite sure why. Everyone assured him that Mr. McGongall would make sure Sirius was kept safe until the trial, and that Fudge would never win his case, but Harry couldn't shake a desperate need to _see_ his godfather face to face. To talk to him. To let Sirius know that no matter what happened, Harry would do whatever he had to to finally win his freedom.

"—ee, it's not that far off, Harry."

Blinking back to the present, Harry turned to Hermione. "What?"

Hermione pointed to the article. "The trial starts next Monday. It's only a few more days."

"Oh," he rubbed his eyes. "Yeah."

He picked at his food awhile longer, mostly to keep Hermione from harping at him about it. Finally he put down his fork and stood up. "I'm going to talk to Remus about the trial."

Ron swung around immediately. "Want me to come?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, then decided just to tell the truth. "Thanks, but I'd rather talk to him alone."

Ron stared at him, finally turning back to the table when Hermione put a hand on his arm. "Harry'll be fine; they just need to talk about Sirius."

"Sure," Ron said. "See you in the common room later."

As Harry set off through the halls towards Remus's office, his mind was churning. Worry about Ron mixed with worry about his godfather, and Harry felt a sense of panic inside. He was beginning to feel as if events and people were spinning out of control again. He shook himself, fixing a purpose in his mind. He _would_ see Sirius and he _would_ help Ron somehow. But first things first—to talk to Remus.

Remus welcomed Harry into his office as usual, but his manner betrayed a hint of wariness. He was obviously expecting Harry to demand to see Sirius. Harry knew he was going to have to approach the subject carefully. He slid into the nearest chair and watched Remus sit down across from him. "There's...I wanted to ask...it's about Ron."

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What about Ron?"

"He's..." Harry hesitated. "He's all wound up...like he's ready to explode. He seems...angry all the time. I thought it might be Percy, but he doesn't ever talk about it. And the weirdest thing is," Harry paused, "he's always staring at us."

"Us?" Remus prodded.

"Me, Hermione, Ginny. And he watches everyone around us in a way that's just...weird," Harry finished. "I dunno why it's just...not like him, I guess."

Remus leaned back in his chair and lifted a tired hand to rub across his eyes. Harry felt a momentary pang of remorse at bringing more troubles to him. He knew Remus was spending extra time with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, trying to support them after Percy's death. Not to mention that he was visiting Sirius in Azkaban nearly every day.

With a sigh, Remus opened his eyes and smiled at Harry. "I could use a break. Tea?"

Harry nodded. "Sure."

After serving them both with cups, Remus sat back. "To be honest, Harry, I think Ron's behavior is pretty much to be expected."

Harry frowned. "I know he's upset, I mean...who wouldn't be after...you know, his brother..." Remus nodded. "But the way he acts...it's just...not Ron. I don't know."

Remus shook his head. "It's not only Percy's death that he's dealing with. And he's angry at himself. You can certainly understand that a little, can't you? His brother and sister were wounded in the Quidditch attack and he couldn't protect them, then he saw his two closest friends go down right in front of him. He couldn't stop that either. Then Percy."

"Ron couldn't have prevented that; he couldn't have stopped any of it," Harry protested.

"I know that," replied Remus. "That's why he's angry: because he couldn't. Think about what you've been willing to do to prevent any more harm from coming to the people you care about. Ron's capable of feeling that way as well. And like all of us, he's wondering what will happen next: who will be hurt next time—and how he can prevent it next time. Ron's ready to fight."

Harry sighed heavily. "I guess I can see that. So what do I do?"

"Just keep being his friend," Remus said earnestly. "That's all you can do, and the most important thing you should do. He needs you. For a time he won't realize just how much he needs you, just as you didn't realize at times how much you needed your friends. He may attempt to shut you out, but don't try to force him to talk. He'll do that when he's ready. Just be there for him."

Harry stared out the window, thinking hard. He'd felt a lot of things in the past year with everything that had happened. Maybe it wasn't that surprising that Ron could feel the same way when things were bad. "I'll do that," he said out loud, glancing at Remus, who nodded in approval. Then he swallowed and said carefully, "How was Sirius last night?"

Remus sighed and shrugged. "He's pretty quiet. He's heavily guarded; no one's taking a chance on his getting away again, but at least the Dementors are gone. Still," Remus shook his head. "He's quiet."

With a deep breath, Harry plunged in. "When you go tomorrow, I'm going—"

"Harry," Remus tried to cut him off, but Harry raised his voice slightly.

"I want to go with you to see him," he made his voice as firm as he could. This wasn't a request. "He's my godfather. I'm not waiting until the trial to see him again when I won't even get a chance to talk to him!"

"Harry, listen to me!" Remus said sharply. Harry folded his arms, letting the werewolf know that he'd listen, but he had no intention of changing his mind. Remus began to pace, startling Harry with his resemblance to Sirius at that moment. "For one thing, it's not even safe for you to be outside Hogwarts right now. And visitation to Azkaban is seriously limited even under the best circumstances, which these aren't. You're not exactly a favorite of the Ministry right now, you're also underage, so the odds of getting a pass out of them for you are slim to none. And if we do get in, Sirius is under heavy guard—Aurors hand-picked by Fudge—and they're not going to make it a comfortable situation. Lastly, and most important, Sirius has made it very clear that he doesn't _want_ you ever coming to Azkaban."

Harry drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair, and waited until Remus had stopped pacing and sat down again. "But you get to see him every time, and you're a werewolf. They can't exactly like the idea of you going either. Mr. McGonagall got you in, and Sirius is my guardian. That's got to count for something." He looked away, embarrassed at the burning in his eyes. "I have to see him, Remus. He's my godfather. I've been dreaming of him dead. I just want to talk to him, you know, tell him..."

"I know," said Remus gently. "But he doesn't want you in Azkaban, ever. It's...Harry, it's already hard enough for him to deal with, what you're going to have to go through during his trial. That's his nightmare, the thought of you in that place, even if it's to visit him. It's easier on him to know that you're here at Hogwarts."

Harry stood up and folded his arms. "He needs me. He doesn't realize it, so he's trying to shut me out. I want to be there for him, whether it's Azkaban or anywhere else. You said that was what I should do for Ron. Why not Sirius?"

Remus blinked. For a moment, he just stared at Harry. Then he got up and stared out the window. Finally, he said, "I'll talk to Murdo. See what he can work out."

Harry let out his breath in a rush. "You mean it?"

With a wry chuckle, Remus nodded. "All right, you've convinced me, although I don't relish explaining that part to Sirius. He made me promise you'd never enter Azkaban even if it meant his never seeing you again."

"But he'll be glad to see me, even if he doesn't like where it is," said Harry stubbornly. "It's stupid that we shouldn't get to see each other just because he doesn't want me to see Azkaban."

"He has a point; it's a horrid place," Remus remarked. But he raised a hand and said, "But I'll do it; what you've said makes sense, and between that and your twisting my words, I never had a chance." He gave Harry a sly smile. "I think you've been spending too much time with a certain Slytherin professor."

Harry laughed. "You're the one who made me take lessons with him!"

* * *

 

Harry was pleased, upon Flooing to the Ministry with Remus, to find Murdo McGonagall waiting for them with the necessary passes to clear Harry's visit. When Mr. McGonagall announced that he would be accompanying them to Azkaban as well, Harry felt a sense of relief. He was still concerned that he might be prevented from seeing Sirius, and he was sure that Mr. McGonagall could stop any attempt to block the visit.

The group portkeyed to the dock where they boarded a small boat for the journey across the water to Azkaban prison. The wind on the water was cold, and Harry was grateful for the thick jumper and heavy cloak that Remus had insisted he wear. No one had much to say, and Harry was occupied staring at the building that loomed over them as they drew closer to the island. It was a forbidding sight, a hulking structure of drab grey stone against a bleak sky, resembling nothing so much as a huge mausoleum. The boat pulled into position, and as the group started up the path that led to the prison, Harry could sense the power of the wards and magic pressing down on them. He suppressed a shiver, not wanting anyone to see that he was uneasy.

At the entrance, they were confronted by a phalanx of Aurors, wands at ready. Harry felt Remus's hand tighten on his arm. A single Auror came forward and curtly requested their permits. Calmly, Murdo McGonagall produced a packet of papers, which the Auror studied intently for several minutes. Harry continued to stare up at the grim building towering over them. He started when Remus gave him a slight push, then realized that the Aurors had moved to allow them to enter.

Harry fully expected the walls to be dripping with the molds and moisture of his dream. Instead, the interior halls were the same bleak grey stone as the exterior, the air cool and very dry. The deeper they moved into the building, the colder it became. The halls were silent, save for their footfalls and those of their Auror escort. They reached an open area where several halls intersected, and there they were ordered to turn over their wands to an older Auror who sealed them in a vault in the wall. An expression of distaste passed over the man's face as he took Remus's wand. Harry frowned, but again felt Remus's hand tighten on his arm in warning.

After surrendering their wands, the group continued down another series of bleak hallways. The air grew colder and drier, reinforcing the tomblike atmosphere. They were stopped yet again at a checkpoint halfway down a hallway, and Remus leaned over to quietly indicate the door at the far end.

"Is that where...?" Harry asked. Remus nodded. "Then why are we being held up?"

Remus posed the question to one of the Aurors at the checkpoint, turned back to Harry and explained that they would have to wait until the current visitor left. At Harry's look of puzzlement, Remus smiled. "Family," he said.

"What? Who..." Before Harry could frame his question, the door to Sirius's cell opened and he grinned as Tonks stepped out. Her robe was open over a brilliant red jumper and muggle jeans, and her hair was platinum blonde, short and spiked. As the door swung shut behind her, she made her way to them.

"Miss Tonks," Murdo McGonagall greeted her. "You certainly are bright."

"Yeah, well..." she smiled at Harry and reached over to ruffle his untidy hair. "They need some color in this dismal place."

"How's Sirius?" Harry inquired anxiously.

"Gloomy," Tonks replied. "I'm glad you're here. Seeing you will cheer him up." She turned aside to Remus and said something under her breath that Harry didn't catch. Remus nodded, and avoided Harry's eyes as he moved forward towards the cell.

A burly Auror stepped in front of them and held up a restraining hand. "The boy cannot go into the prisoner's cell."

"What?" Harry blurted, and Tonks turned in outrage toward the Auror. Seeing the wizard's stubborn scowl, Harry stared despairingly at Sirius's cell door, only a few yards away, and protested, "No!"

"What's the meaning of this, Seldon?"

Murdo McGonagall gestured for quiet. "On what grounds are you preventing the boy from entering?"

The Auror's scowl deepened. "The boy is underage. He can't go in without a guardian present."

Remus responded quietly. "I am acting as the boy's guardian."

"Acting?" The Auror raised his eyebrows.

Mr. McGonagall produced another packet of papers. "Mr. Lupin is acting as the boy's guardian while his actual guardian, his godfather, Sirius Black, is imprisoned and awaiting trial. I have here the legal forms, signed by Sirius Black, naming Remus Lupin as the boy's guardian. Furthermore, I have a permission form from the Headmistress of Hogwarts, "his lips twitched," authorizing the boy's trip to see his godfather. Along with his Ministry pass, this should confirm the boy's right to enter the cell."

The Auror wasn't finished. "Only one visitor allowed in the cell at any time."

Harry could almost _feel_ the contained fury emanating from Remus. This time it was he who squeezed Remus's arm in warning.

Mr. McGonagall spoke again. "The boy's guardian must be present, Mr. ...Seldon, is it? That means both of them will be allowed into the cell. And your Auror identification number is?"

The Auror shifted uneasily. "Why would you need my number, uh, sir?"

His eyes cold, Mr. McGonagall answered. "To take action against you for deliberately obstructing persons legally authorized to visit my client."

Seldon wilted visibly. "That wasn't my intention, sir."

McGonagall stared at him. "I sincerely hope not. Now, Mr. Lupin and his charge will proceed to the cell to visit my client. I will wait here with Miss Tonks. Do you have any further objections?"

The Auror quickly shook his head and moved aside, and Harry almost shouted with relief as he and Remus headed towards the cell. Upon reaching the door, it opened in front of them, and they stepped inside.

The cell was icy cold and very small. The bleak stone walls were unrelieved by any opening. The room was dimly lit – by what means, Harry couldn't see. A ledge, made of the same bleak stone, jutted narrowly out of the opposite wall. And on the ledge reclined Sirius Black, a thin blanket rolled up under his head, acting as a pillow of sorts. At the sound of their entrance, he turned his head to face the door, his eyes dull and disinterested.

Then he leapt to his feet as if he'd been hit with a Shocking Hex, staring in disbelief.

"Harry, what the...! Dammit, Remus – I told you..." Sirius turned on his friend furiously.

"Sirius, calm down! Harry and I talked..." Remus's attempt to explain was cut off.

"Does _nothing_ I say count for anything anymore? The one thing I didn't want..."

Harry had had enough. "Should I just leave?" he yelled.

The two men fell silent, and Sirius reached past Remus to pull Harry into his arms. "No, of course not." Harry returned the hug. "You're the one I've been wanting to see more than anybody. Just...not here..." His voice cracked, and Harry felt his shoulders shake. He kept his arms around Sirius for another moment until Sirius had collected himself, and then looked him in the face and shrugged.

"I wanted to see you. I don't care if it's in Azkaban." Harry said.

Sirius nodded, then gestured towards the ledge. "Allow me to extend the hospitality of my suite." He drew Harry to sit beside him on the ledge, while Remus took a seat on the floor. Sirius gave him a look. "So, you're allowing my godson to run roughshod over you, Remus?"

Remus grinned. "He's _your_ godson, Sirius. I doubt you could have stood against him as long as I did."

Their laughter was rather forced. Harry smiled, but couldn't keep his lips from quivering. He dropped his gaze and felt Sirius's arm tighten around his shoulders.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Remus spoke up. "Murdo has the prosecution's witness list."

Sirius took a deep breath, and said matter-of-factly, "Who's on it?"

"Dawlish," Remus replied. Sirius snorted. "Jameson, Eccleston, and Snetterton, " Remus continued.

"Snetterton? Thought he was dead," Sirius commented.

"I wish," Harry muttered.

Next to him, Sirius chuckled. "Old Snetty's all right."

"Then why is he testifying against you?" grumbled Harry.

"Because he's a witness," Sirius answered.

Remus said, "Look on the bright side. At least Bartemius Crouch isn't testifying."

"Bloody lucky there," Sirius agreed. "I'd rather take my chances with Fudge."

Remus leaned back against the wall. "And for defense, we have Minerva..." Sirius nodded, "myself, of course, and..." Remus paused, and shot a grin at Harry, " Severus Snape."

"Uhhhhgh!" Sirius buried his face in his hands.

"Oh Sirius, stop it." said Remus. "He's one of our star witnesses!"

Sirius groaned louder and began rocking back and forth. "I'm doomed...DOOMED!" Harry burst out laughing.

"And then ...Harry." Remus tried to slip it in.

Sirius's laughter stopped. He looked sideways at Harry and then at Remus again.

"Of course I'm testifying!" Harry said.

Sirius looked at the floor. "I don't like it."

Harry watched him. "Why not?"

Sirius was quiet for a moment, and then said carefully, "I know what kind of case Fudge is going to make. It'll be like last year, only worse. He has to convince the jury that you were wrong about Wormtail."

Harry shrugged. "So, he'll try to convince them I'm crazy again. It didn't work before."

Remus shook his head. "This will be direct questioning, Harry. Everything you've seen, everything Sirius has done. He'll try to convince _you_ that you're crazy."

In the silence that followed, a knock sounded on the door. "Time!"

As they rose from the ledge, Sirius kept an arm around Harry. "I don't care what Fudge says," Harry told him. "You're innocent, and I'll make them believe it."

"Sure," said Sirius. Harry stepped aside so that Remus could say goodbye. The door swung open, and as they stepped through, Harry heard Sirius say quietly behind them, "Take care of him, Remus."

* * *

**_RITA SKEETER EXCLUSIVE: BOY WHO LIVED VISITS SIRIUS BLACK IN AZKABAN!  
_ ** **_BLACK'S TRIAL TO BEGIN AT MINISTRY TODAY!_ **

_The Daily Prophet has confirmed that Harry Potter was permitted to travel to Azkaban on Sunday to visit Sirius Black, whom Potter strongly insists is innocent of his parents' murder. Potter was accompanied by Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Remus Lupin to visit Black, who sources now confirm is in fact Potter's godfather._

_No reporters have been permitted into Azkaban itself, so there is no way to determine what passed between the Boy Who Lived and Black. But it cannot be denied that young Harry has been in a state of constant distress since his godfather's arrest a week ago._

_In spite of Potter's powerful defenses of Black, the Minister of Magic maintains that the Boy Who Lived is merely another of Black's victims, possibly Confunded so that Black might nefariously work his way into the boy's affections. Minister Fudge has vowed to prove Black's guilt at the upcoming trial, declaring that even celebrity endorsements cannot alter the truth._

_The Daily Prophet has an unconfirmed report that Harry Potter will be among the witnesses testifying in Black's defense over the next few days. This list is also alleged to include such notable individuals as newly-confirmed Hogwarts Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, former Auror Alastor Moody, Auror Nymphadora Tonks, and respected Ministry employee Arthur Weasley._

_The Prophet will be releasing regular reports on the progress of the trial, which will be simultaneously broadcast via the Wizarding Wireless Network as a Prophet News Special._

The newspaper actually rattled in Harry's hands. He tossed it away and folded his arms on the table, resting his chin on them so no one could see how badly they were trembling.

"Harry, you've got to eat," Hermione whispered in his ear. On his other side, Ron silently patted his back. "You'll never get through this if you don't."

"I'll be sick if I do," Harry mumbled. Really, it was rather hypocritical on their part; neither of them were exactly cleaning their plates!

Bastet had been making more progress with Ginny's breakfast than Ginny herself. Harry found himself watching her, wishing he could be like her: all instincts, just taking treats and getting petted and sitting in people's laps, never having to worry about the end of the world. She seemed to have stopped growing, but she was still very small, and still managed to get up on Ginny's shoulder now and then.

Almost as if she sensed Harry's thoughts, she turned, blinking her amber eyes at him, then crawled across Ron's lap to settle on Harry's own, peering up at him with pricked ears. Harry pulled one hand out from under his chin to pet her, and she chirped at him. His tremors decreased a little, and he sighed.

"What's this, Potter? I don't believe familiars are permitted in the Great Hall during meals." They glanced up to see Snape looming behind Harry's shoulder, glaring down at the cat in Harry's lap.

"She's mine, sir," said Ginny, and clicked her tongue to summon Bastet back. "I'll take her upstairs."

Snape sneered at her. "Don't let it occur again, Miss Weasley. Five points from Gryffindor—and it will be ten if Potter doesn't straighten up at this table."

Harry bristled and sat up in his seat as Snape gestured imperiously at him to get his elbows off the table—but something landed in his lap where Bastet had been. Frowning, he picked it up. It was a small bottle of potion...Anti-Nausea Potion, specifically.

Beside Harry, Ron stared. "He scares me sometimes."

Hermione surreptitiously took the bottle from Harry, sniffed around the cap, and handed it back. "Anti-Nausea Potion, nothing else. You should take it. It'll make today easier to get through, AND easier to eat. You can't go to the trial on an empty stomach—"

"All right, all right!" Harry exclaimed, cutting off her lecturing.

* * *

 

"This way," Mr. Weasley said as he escorted Harry, Ron, and Hermione down to the lower levels of the Ministry. "Courtroom One. You'll be in a section for the witnesses, away from the casual observers."

"And the press, I hope," muttered Ginny.

"Them too," Mr. Weasley assured them, patting her shoulder. "Your Mum and the rest of the boys are already inside."

"Is..." Harry glanced around. The corridor was much busier than the last time he had been here. People were milling all around, talking excitedly. He lowered his voice. "Is Sirius there yet?"

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "They'll bring him in when the trial starts." He smiled reassuringly at Harry. "But he's in the Ministry; I saw him this morning. He's all right."

Harry wasn't the only one who let out a long breath at that.

As they approached the doors of the largest courtroom in the Ministry, a herd of reporters began stampeding back and forth along a rope line, snapping pictures and shouting to everyone going in.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter!"

"Harry, are you expecting the Wizengamot to take your word?"

"Mr. Weasley, what will you be testifying about?"

"Miss Granger, did you believe the Muggle press about Sirius Black?"

"Mr. Weasley!"

"Miss Weasley, are you dating Harry Potter?"

"Mr. Potter!"

"Mr. Weasley!"

"Miss Granger, a word? Just a word?"

They were all very relieved to be ushered into the room and hear the doors thump closed behind them. Harry gritted his teeth, but Hermione's hand on his arm forestalled calling the press nasty names. He followed her gaze to Rita Skeeter, standing in a small, cordoned-off section of the courtroom among a few other cameras and wizard microphones. She gave him a smug wink, and he forced a smile, then turned his head quickly as if distracted when he saw Rita's photographer taking aim.

"Can we wait till after to give her a statement?" muttered Ron at them.

"I think so. Maybe we can slip her a note so she'll stay calm," Hermione replied, with a slight shake of her head. Indeed, Rita did seem a bit agitated.

Then again, Harry was as well. Although the potion from Snape had taken care of his nausea, his anxiety had only grown worse on the trip from Hogwarts to the Ministry. His hands were shaking and sweaty, and he felt cold and shivery all over. Ron and Hermione steered him to their seats, close to the front of the still-half-empty courtroom, and Hermione and Ginny sat very close on either side of him. He couldn't stop staring around the room.

It was much larger than Courtroom Ten, where Harry's disciplinary hearing had been held the summer before his fifth year. But the walls were the same dark stone, and the room full of the same high benches.

There was no one in the front seats for the Wizengamot yet, but a few witches and wizards were already scurrying into the open seats and pointing and whispering when they saw Harry. Some uniformed Aurors were milling around on the courtroom floor, and when one of them moved, Harry spotted the prisoner's chair with the chains.

The chains that would hold Sirius when he came in. Sirius would be facing Harry.

Harry's heart did a back flip, and Hermione and Ginny each grabbed one of his hands. "It'll be okay," Ginny whispered in his ear. "It'll be okay." From behind them, Mrs. Weasley and Professor Lupin each reached down to squeeze Harry's shoulders.

Murdo McGonagall came in a few minutes later, wearing impressive robes with some medals and ribbons on them that obviously meant something, and overall looking very imposing. He also did not look terribly worried, which made Harry feel a little better. Professor McGonagall came in a few minutes later, and Harry and his friends all leaned forward. She paused beside her husband, and he said something to her, then she came up past Harry and his friends to join the other professors from Hogwarts, murmuring, "Good morning," as she passed.

Harry wished he knew what she was thinking.

The half hour from the time they arrived in the courtroom until noon, when the trial was set to start, seemed to last for ten eternities. Harry alternated between sitting stock-still in an effort to control his inner and outer trembling to fidgeting restlessly and shifting about in his seat from nervous energy. Either way, he thought he would scream in frustration already, and the trial hadn't even begun yet.

All the witnesses who would be testifying for Sirius were there now: Remus, Professor McGonagall, and Snape, Harry and his friends, and the Aurors from the Order. Harry missed Dumbledore now more than ever. On his right, Hermione was whispering to Ron, Tonks, and Moody about what they knew about the new wizard who'd replaced Dumbledore on the Wizengamot, and on his left, Ginny was leaning back to talk to her parents in the row behind them. Beyond Ginny, the remaining Weasley boys were muttering amongst themselves.

Harry sighed inwardly. He missed Percy too. If Percy were here right now, he'd no doubt be able to explain everything that was going on to Harry. Or had Percy's name never been cleared either? He'd have to find out. Percy shouldn't have died a fugitive.

_Like Sirius..._

Harry shuddered, and Ginny turned back to him and squeezed his arm.

By the time the hands on the large clock above the Wizengamot bench were approaching twelve, all the seats were full, and even Hermione was biting her nails.

On the first toll of the bell, Harry's breath choked off in his throat, and more than a few people froze as the hour rang out. High noon. His mind vaguely reminded him of Muggle books where the battles always took place at noon when the sun was highest. In the wizarding world, from what he remembered of History of Magic, they always took place at midnight.

When the last toll of the bell died away, the doors above the Wizengamot's bench opened, and the plum-robed wizards and witches filed in, taking their places above the rest of the courtroom. From his seat among the witnesses, Harry could see them better than when he had come for his hearing. The courtroom was deathly silent, everyone watching and waiting as the members of the Wizengamot settled themselves. Harry was briefly thankful he'd been late for his own hearing; he half-wished he'd been late for this one.

In the central seat of the front row was the square-jawed witch with the monocle that Harry recognized as Amelia Bones. He didn't see Cornelius Fudge anywhere, and heard Hermione whisper, "Madam Bones is presiding over the trial. At least we know she's fair."

Madam Bones stood up, looking as forbidding as she had the last time Harry had seen her, and ordered, "Bring in the jury."

A door opened above the benches on the right of the courtroom, and twelve witches and wizards in black robes filed into view. They settled themselves and nodded to her. She nodded back and said to the Aurors, "Bring in the accused."

Harry felt Ginny's fingers dig into his arm as a door in the corner of the courtroom opened. There was a collective intake of breath when Sirius Black came into view, flanked by no less than four Aurors. Harry was one of the only people who didn't gasp—because he was holding his breath.

Sirius met his eyes almost immediately and held them, which was a good thing because when he saw the heavy ropes binding his godfather's wrists, Harry thought he might pass out. He could feel Ron and Hermione's eyes on him, but couldn't tear his gaze away from Sirius. The Aurors marched him over to the heavy chair in the center of the floor, and Sirius never took his eyes off Harry, even when the chains sprang up and bound him. The courtroom was rippling with whispers, but Harry was oblivious to them.

He wanted to smile at Sirius. Let him know it would be okay. Let him know Harry would stand up for him.

But he couldn't. He was frozen, unable to move a muscle. All he could do was watch; his mind felt numb and paralyzed. Helpless.

Then Madam Bones announced, "Head counsel of the Prosecution, Minister Cornelius Fudge," and Fudge appeared, wearing his Wizengamot robes and a distinct air of self-importance.

The Minister took a box seat just below the Wizengamot benches, facing the jury. When Madam Bones nodded to him, he turned around.

"The accused, Sirius Orion Black, answers today for the charges of premeditated murder." Harry's insides clenched. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury: As you all know, willful murder carries the penalty of life imprisonment in Azkaban. And flight from Ministry justice under any circumstance exacts a mandatory Dementor's kiss."

There was a collective gasp. Harry flinched and dropped his eyes, and flashbulbs went off from the press section next to the jury. "Fat chance of finding a Dementor to do it," Ron muttered at him, trying to sound reassuring but sounding in fact like he wanted to throw something at Fudge.

"The crime for which the accused shall at _last_ be held accountable," Fudge went on as Harry gritted his teeth, "is the most treacherous and foul act of depravity that can be imagined: the cold-blooded betrayal of an innocent family by the one entrusted with their safety. The delivery of a brave and good man and woman by their Secret Keeper to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, resulting in their death, and the slaughter of their dearest friend."

Harry's heart was beginning to hammer. Ginny's fingernails were digging into his skin. But Fudge was not done. "You will hear how the accused used the trust and friendship of James and Lily Potter, a fine, upstanding young couple, to spy upon the enemies of You-Know-Who, and when they took the accused as their Secret Keeper, he betrayed them, resulting in their brutal murder at the Dark Lord's own hands. You will also hear how for the past three years, the accused has once again insinuated himself into the good graces of decent wizards, even to the point of deceiving his way into the affections of his victims' only son."

Harry stiffened; the courtroom erupted into chatter, and the warlock on the left of Amelia Bones had to bang his gavel repeatedly to quiet everyone down.

"Why doesn't Mr. McGonagall say something?" Ron hissed.

"It's opening statements," Hermione whispered, leaning across Ron to pat Harry's knee. "It's Fudge's turn now because he's the Prosecutor. Mr. McGonagall is next, don't worry."

Harry nodded, tearing his eyes away from Sirius to scan the room. Behind him, Professor McGonagall was muttering to Professor Snape, both of them wearing grave expressions. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were talking quietly to Remus, who looked as haggard as if the full moon were tomorrow. Tonks was on the floor of the courtroom talking to Sirius under his guards' watchful eyes. The reporters were scribbling away like mad.

Then Madam Bones called, "Counsel for the accused, Murdo McGonagall."

Harry took a deep breath. It had begun.


	42. The Trial of Sirius Black, Part II

**_MINISTER FOR PROSECUTION:_ **

**_BLACK SLAUGHTERED POTTERS AND DECEIVED THEIR SON!_ **

**_A Rita Skeeter Exclusive_ **

"Mr. Dawlish," Fudge began. "Will you relate the events of the morning of November 1st, 1981, as you recall them."

"The Aurors on my shift were called shortly after one in the morning to an address in Godric's Hollow, where it was reported the Dark Mark had been seen above the residence," Dawlish replied gravely.

"Please explain what you found there," requested Fudge.

Harry felt Ginny's hand tighten in his, and Ron squeeze his shoulder. He turned slightly in his seat, to look at Remus and Tonks sitting behind him. Remus was pale, but composed, keeping Tonks hand in his.

Dawlish spoke again. "We found that the house had been demolished, and in the ruins," he paused for effect, "we discovered the bodies of James and Lily Potter."

"Please describe the condition of the bodies."

Ginny recoiled, her brothers hissed, and for a moment, Harry didn't know whether to throw up or pass out. Behind him, he heard a muffled groan.

"Objection!" Murdo McGonagall was on his feet. "Madame Bones, this information has long been on file and available to the prosecution. It is unnecessary to the proceedings, and cruel to describe the details while the victims' son is present."

Madame Bones turned to Fudge. "Minister?"

"This evidence is being presented in order to establish absolutely the _enormity_ of the offence committed by Black," Fudge declared.

She shook her head. "The evidence of their death establishes that. Further detail is unnecessary. Objection sustained."

Fudge acknowledged her decision with a slight nod of his head, and turned back to Dawlish. "Let us move to the evening of November 1st, 1981. Again, I ask you to describe what took place."

Harry leaned forward in his seat as Dawlish began to speak. "We'd been made aware that there had been a major release of magic in a Muggle-occupied area of London. Upon apparating to that location, we found an area of the street that had received a blast of extremely violent magic. There was heavy damage, twelve Muggle bodies, and," he paused, "a portion of a wizard's body."

"A portion?" Fudge queried. "Please elaborate."

"A finger of a wizard who had been destroyed in the blast."

"Indeed," said Fudge. "And was the identity of that wizard ever established?"

"Yes, Minister," replied Dawlish. "The wizard was eventually identified as Peter Pettigrew."

Next to him, Harry heard Ron mutter, "Bastard!" followed by a shushing sound from Hermione.

"Was there anyone else there at the site?" Fudge asked.

"Yes." Dawlish raised his voice slightly. "Sirius Black was standing in the midst of all the bodies with his wand out."

A murmur ran through the courtroom, and Sirius raised his head to look steadily at Harry.

Fudge raised his own voice. "Did you ask Sirius Black to surrender his wand?"

"Yes," replied Dawlish. "And he did so."

Fudge looked around the courtroom, and waited until he had everyone's attention. "Did you ask Sirius Black if he had murdered those poor Muggles?"

"Yes," Dawlish responded, "we did."

"And what was his answer?"

Sirius continued to look at Harry, and Remus reach over and put a hand on his shoulder.

"He gave no answer," Dawlish explained. "He just laughed, and he continued to laugh until we restrained him and took him into custody."

"Thank you, Mr. Dawlish." He returned to Mr. McGonagall. "Your witness."

Beside him, Harry heard Ron ask something, but he didn't reply. He wanted to turn around and check on Remus, but he could not take his eyes off Sirius. Below him, bound to the chair, Sirius kept his gaze steady on him, and Harry had a strange, fearful feeling that he'd be severing a lifeline that Sirius was clinging to, if he turned his eyes away.

Murdo McGonagall began the cross-examination. "Mr. Dawlish, you have stated that Sirius Black did not confess to the murder of Pettigrew and the twelve muggles prior to being taken into custody. Is that correct?"

Dawlish nodded. "That is correct."

"Once you had him in custody, was he interrogated?"

"Yes," Dawlish replied, "Over several hours every day for the next several days."

"I see." Mr. McGonagall paused. "And during this time period, it was generally accepted that Lord Voldemort," a collective gasp rose from the assembled courtroom, "was dead?"

Dawlish grimaced. "It was."

"Well, then..." McGonagall mused. "Sirius Black had nothing to lose by confessing. And yet...you say he did not do so?"

"Well," Dawlish hedged, "he never claimed he was innocent, either."

Behind him, Harry heard Tonks mutter a rude word.

"Mr. Dawlish," McGonagall demanded, "confine your statements to the questions you are asked!"

Dawlish glared, but anwered, "He never confessed."

* * *

 

The prosecution continued its case. Jameson, Eccleston, and Snetterton were all called to the stand by Fudge, and their evidence supported that given by Dawlish. Nobody seemed very surprised by what the Aurors said, and that made Harry feel a little better. He could see now what Sirius and Remus had meant. These were just the Aurors who had been on duty, reporting what they had seen and done. Except for Dawlish who seemed to delight in taking every opportunity to suggest that Sirius was a murderous madman.

"So, Mr. Snetterton, you took over for Mr. Dawlish interrogating Sirius Black?" Mr. McGonagall asked.

"Yes, I did," Snetterton replied.

"And did Sirius Black confess his guilt to you?" queried McGonagall.

"No," Snetterton replied, "But then I never expected that he would."

Mr. McGonagall paused. "Why not?"

"Because I knew Black hadn't done it."

"Good old Snetty," Remus murmured behind Harry.

"Objection!" bellowed Fudge, leaping from his seat.

"He's your witness, Minister," Mr. McGonagall said.

"Overruled," said Madame Bones.

Everyone leaned forward, and Mr. McGonagall went on, "Tell us, Mr. Snetterton, why were you so certain that Sirius Black was not guilty?"

Snetterton shrugged, "His behavior didn't make sense for a murderer."

"So you did not consider his behavior consistent with that of a madman?"

"Oh, he was mad all right, but not because he was a murderer. I've seen wizards fall apart like that before; the man was mad with grief." A rush of whispering went through the room. "When he wasn't laughing, he was crying. And not over You-Know-Who."

"Over the Potters?"

"Yes."

"Then why was Sirius Black sent to prison?"

"Mr. Crouch gave the order," said Snetterton.

"Did you object?" Mr. McGonagall's voice had taken on a ringing quality to it.

"I did," said Snetterton. "I was overruled."

"Thank you, Mr. Snetterton. No further questions," said Mr. McGonagall.

But as Harry had feared, Fudge rose again. "Additional questions, Madam Bones."

"Be quick about it, Minister."

"Mr. Snetterton," Fudge drawled. "Over the course of the investigation of the Potters' and Peter Pettigrew's murder, how many Aurors participated?"

Snetterton shrugged, "Just about all of them, I believe."

"I see. And how many shared your objection to the conclusion that Sirius Black was the murderer?"

Snetterton pursed his lips. "None. I was the only one."

"Ah. So if you were right, then every single Auror on the Ministry force was wrong?"

"Objection," said Mr. McGonagall wearily.

"Withdrawn," said Fudge. "One more question, Mr. Snetterton. Did you or any of your colleagues perform a _Priori Incantatem_ on Black's wand?"

"No. The wand disappeared the day we arrested him."

Harry glanced around and sighed. The rest of the spectators no longer seemed quite so excited about Snetterton's testimony.

The prosecution finally rested its case, and a recess was called to enable the defense to prepare to call witnesses. Sirius was removed from the courtroom under Auror guard, and Harry felt himself sag in his seat, his head aching from the tension. Next to him, Ron had an arm around Hermione, who had burst into tears when Sirius was led out.

"Harry," Remus spoke from behind him. "How are you holding up?"

"Okay, I guess." Harry twisted around in his seat. "That was rough."

"It's just getting started," Remus replied. He produced a bottle of cold water, and Harry took a drink gratefully. "After Snetty's little revelation, Fudge is going to come after us with everything he's got."

"Are you..." Harry hesitated, "nervous, Remus?"

Remus gave a short laugh. "Yes, I bloody well am. And you?"

Harry nodded.

* * *

 

"So, Headmistress McGonagall, you yourself never saw Peter Pettigrew alive?"

"No." Professor McGonagall looked ready to explode. Not surprising; Harry felt the same way himself.

Minister Fudge was basing his entire case on the idea that Sirius had Confunded Harry and his friends into believing Wormtail was alive. What had seemed so absurd the first time they had heard of it was now sounding frighteningly believable, as Fudge got witness after witness to admit they had never seen any sign of Pettigrew.

Harry himself hadn't been called to testify yet, but he knew what Fudge was going to say: _Poor Harry. Black cruelly tricked him and used his mental instability..._

At the moment, Mr. McGonagall was asking his wife questions. "And I understand Headmaster Dumbledore himself was convinced beyond any doubt that Sirius Black had been framed?"

"Yes," Professor McGonagall said firmly. "He would never have allowed Mr. Black near our students if he was not certain."

"Thank you," said Mr. McGonagall.

Fudge stood up, simpering. "One further question, Headmistress. Did the late Headmaster _himself_ ever state that he saw Peter Pettigrew?"

Professor McGonagall glared. "No."

"In fact, did he not believe, just as we all did for twelve years, that Peter Pettigrew had been murdered by Sirius Black?"

"Yes."

"And he only changed his mind on the word of Harry Potter that Pettigrew was alive?"

" _And_ the word of three other eyewitnesses," Professor McGonagall snarled.

"Ah, yes. Two other schoolchildren and your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Yes."

"Who resigned the next day because he was found out as a werewolf?"

"Objection," said Mr. McGonagall.

"I will allow it," said Madame Bones.

"Professor Lupin resigned for personal reasons," Professor McGonagall snapped.

"Of course," sneered Fudge. "But it _was_ the very day _after_ he spent a night hunting on the school grounds?"

"Objection!"

"Sustained," said Madame Bones.

"No further questions," said Fudge triumphantly.

"You may step down, Headmistress McGonagall," said Madame Bones, with a gracious nod. Visibly fuming, Professor McGonagall did so. "Next defense witness?"

"The defense calls Professor Remus J. Lupin."

Harry's hands were shaking as Remus made his way to the witness stand and swore to tell the truth. Behind him, he heard Snape say to someone, "He shouldn't have called him. This is a mistake."

As the questioning got started, from the way the jury was looking at Remus, Harry couldn't help but wonder if Snape wasn't right.

"And then what happened, Professor?"

"I took the rat from Ron and performed a standard Revealing Spell. It was Peter Pettigrew."

"How are you so sure? It had been twelve years, hadn't it?"

"Yes. But I recognized him. His eyes were the same, and his teeth. He was still wearing the clothes he'd worn when he told me...James and Lily had been killed. He has a scar on his chin from a bad hex in sixth year, and a large mole on his neck."

"And Pettigrew confessed to the murder?"

"Yes," said Remus. He looked pale and tired, but absolutely certain. Harry felt a little stronger, seeing the determination in Remus's eyes. "He confirmed what Sirius had said: that he had been the Secret Keeper, not Sirius. He is the one who betrayed James, Lily, and Harry to be killed."

"I see. Professor, is it safe to say that your relationship with Harry Potter is beyond that of a normal teacher and student?" Mr. McGonagall asked.

"It is. I can't deny it, "said Remus calmly. "We talk in my office several times a week. Sometimes every day when things are bad."

"Understandable. Tell me, would you categorize Harry Potter's mental and emotional state as stable for a boy his age?"

"Very much so," said Remus, flashing a quick smile at Harry. "He is a very strong young man. He's held himself together through some truly horrific experiences. He has his ups and downs, like all teenagers, but I am convinced his word can be trusted."

"And you never would have allowed Sirius Black near him otherwise." Mr. McGonagall finished with a knowing smile.

Remus said fiercely, "If I hadn't realized already that Sirius was innocent, I would have killed him myself that night."

Sirius cracked a faint smile.

"Your witness, Mr. Fudge."

This time, it was Ron who grabbed Harry's arm. Ginny growled quietly as Fudge oozed forward.

"Let's return to that night, shall we, Professor? It was the full moon, was it not?"

"Objection," said Mr. McGonagall.

"I must be able to reconstruct _all_ the circumstances to examine this witness's credibility," said Fudge.

"Overruled," said Madam Bones.

Harry held his breath.

"My transformation was an unfortunate accident," said Remus evenly.

"A very _dangerous_ accident, wasn't it?" Fudge pushed. "You might have killed all three of those children – that is why you resigned, wasn't it?"

"Yes," said Remus.

"But why did you return?"

"At Headmaster Dumbledore's urgent request."

"Yet the danger you pose to the students remains."

"We took further steps to minimize the risk. I now leave the school the day before the full moon, and return the day after."

"Then why did you resign in the first place? Wasn't it because you had been trying to _hide_ your status as a dark creature?"

"No, it was because I had indeed exposed three students to inexcusable danger through my negligence. I had already drafted a letter of resignation by the time Professor Snape made the announcement."

"Harry, _breathe_!" hissed Hermione.

"I object to this line of questioning," said Mr. McGonagall.

"Move on, Minister," said Madam Bones.

"Very well. Mr. Lupin, you forgot your Wolfsbane Potion because you rushed out to search for Harry Potter and his friends, correct?"

"Yes," said Remus.

"You were concerned for their safety because there was a killer on the loose."

"Yes."

"And the approach of the full moon makes you ill during the day, does it not?"

"Somewhat, but..." Remus began.

Fudge cut him off. "In fact, it was this illness that once gave you a convincing pretext to miss classes, true?"

"Yes," Remus said curtly.

"Professor Lupin, would it be fair to say that you are most vulnerable in the hours preceding the full moon?" Fudge drove on.

Harry's head was throbbing, and he felt dizzy. It wasn't until Ron elbowed him and made him gasp that he realized he'd been holding his breath again.

"Yes," said Remus.

"Then isn't it possible that an accomplished dark wizard could have taken advantage of your vulnerable state to Confund you?"

Remus visibly gritted his teeth. "Possible, yes."

"Mr. Lupin, you were in Gryffindor House at Hogwarts with the accused, correct?"

"Yes."

"In fact, the two of you were known to be extremely close to the deceased James Potter and Peter Pettigrew, were you not?"

"Yes, we were."

"From your knowledge of his abilities, was Sirius Black a wizard of sufficient skill to Confund yourself, Professor Snape, and three students?"

"Objection," said Mr. McGonagall. "Sirius Black was never one of Professor Lupin's students."

"But they were close friends in the same year at Hogwarts; they must have been familiar with each other's performances," Fudge retorted.

"Overruled," said Madam Bones.

Remus said tightly, "I daresay twenty years ago, Sirius could have got the jump on anyone— _before_ twelve years in Azkaban."

Ron sighed softly and punched Harry lightly on the arm. "Good show, Remus."

"No further questions," grumbled Fudge.

"You may step down, Professor Lupin. Call your next witness, Mr. McGonagall," said Madam Bones.

"The defense calls Professor Severus Snape."

Hermione hissed softly, and Harry felt Ron and Ginny tense. He didn't blame them. He felt the same way. No one else in the courtroom made a sound as Professor Snape walked to the witness stand. He did not look at Sirius, or anyone else, and Harry could not read anything in his face except intense displeasure.

Mr. McGonagall seemed the only person unaffected. "Please state your name for the record."

"Severus Snape," said Snape curtly.

"And you are a Professor at Hogwarts?"

"I am."

"Professor Snape, how long have you known the accused, Sirius Black?"

"Twenty-six years," said Snape, his scowl deepening.

"Since your first year at Hogwarts?" Mr. McGonagall pressed.

"Yes," Snape said darkly. Harry noticed that the jury was looking intimidated. He couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

"I see," said Mr. McGonagall. "Would you describe your acquaintance with Sirius Black during your school days as amicable?"

"No." Snape's emphatic tone caused whispers to ripple through the courtroom.

Mr. McGonagall merely smiled. "And after school?"

"We were not amicable," Snape replied.

"And now?"

Snape's lip curled. "I have despised Sirius Black since the earliest days of our acquaintance, and there has never been any change in that opinion. I would wager that one of the few areas of agreement between us is the mutuality of that sentiment."

Sirius smirked. Someone behind Harry snorted quietly. Mr. McGonagall smiled. "Would you please explain to this court the first time you saw Sirius Black after he escaped Azkaban?"

"I followed Professor Lupin and three wayward students from the grounds and found Black with them."

"What did you do?"

"I attempted to take Black and Lupin into custody." Snape's eyes flicked toward Harry in a reproachful glance. Unnecessary, Harry thought, since Snape had been wrong and now knew it.

Mr. McGonagall asked, "And what did they say?"

"All of them protested Black's innocence."

"But you did not believe them?"

"No."

"Did Professor Lupin and the students explain why they were convinced Sirius Black was innocent?"

"I was not interested in hearing it; it was my duty to turn in Black and the man harboring him."

Sirius rolled his eyes, and Ron growled under his breath. Mr. McGonagall went on, "What happened then?"

"Potter and his friends Stunned me. When I awoke, I found them on the grounds with Black. They had barely survived the dementor attack."

"Did you learn then why they believed Sirius Black was innocent?"

"Yes. When the students regained consciousness, they insisted Peter Pettigrew was alive. That they had seen him, and he had confessed to turning over the Potters to the Dark Lord."

"And how did you respond?"

"I assumed they had been Confunded. The story seemed absurd. It was well-published that Pettigrew was dead."

"So the possibility that it might be true never occurred to you?" asked Mr. McGonagall.

"No." Snape sounded less than delighted to be admitting his mistake.

"Professor Snape," Mr. McGonagall went on, "would you please explain to this court when you changed your mind about Sirius Black's guilt?"

His voice lowered slightly, Snape replied, "The night of the Triwizard Tournament's Third Task."

Ginny scooted a little closer to Harry. He didn't mind; the courtroom was cold, and knowing what he was about to hear was only making it seem colder. "Please tell us what happened that night," said Mr. McGonagall.

"Some time after Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory disappeared from the Third Task, I felt the Dark Mark burn. I knew _he_ had returned." Nearly everyone in the courtroom shivered. Snape went on, "We—that's Headmaster Dumbledore and the Hogwarts staff—caught Barty Crouch in an attempt to murder Potter. He confessed to working with Peter Pettigrew to kidnap the boy for the Dark Lord's resurrection spell. Afterward, the Headmaster sent for Black."

"So Albus Dumbledore did believe in Sirius Black's innocence by then?"

"Yes," Snape said sourly. "He asked us to work together against the Dark Lord."

"And did you?"

"I always did as he ordered," Snape growled.

"But," Mr. McGonagall pressed, "did you believe him about Sirius Black's innocence?"

"Yes."

"Despite your personal animosity towards Mr. Black?"

"Yes."

"Simply because Albus Dumbledore declared it?"

"Yes."

"Are we to understand that you trusted Albus Dumbledore enough that his word was enough for you to work with a reputed murderer?"

Snape's black eyes hardened. "I trusted Albus Dumbledore enough to walk back into a circle of Death Eaters time and time again." This time, everyone in the room shivered. So did Harry.

Mr. McGonagall nodded solemnly. "I see. And did you embark on a mission to spy against You Know Who that night?"

"I did."

"Did you discover any further information that supported the claims of Sirius Black's innocence?"

"Yes. I saw Pettigrew." Whispers rippled through the room. Ron elbowed Harry, directing his gaze surreptitiously to Fudge, and Harry saw that the Minister of Magic was clearly furious, a flush of red slowly creeping up from his collar toward his face.

Mr. McGonagall, as always, was unconcerned. "Did you speak to him?"

"Only briefly that night. But on later meetings, Pettigrew admitted repeatedly in my hearing to having framed Black as the betrayer of the Potters. He had also been the one spying on the Dark Lord's opponents during the last war."

"I should've let them kill him," Harry muttered. Ron elbowed him again, and Ginny murmured a little, "sshh," of protest.

"So, Professor, you yourself heard Peter Pettigrew confess to all of the crimes with which Sirius Black is currently charged?"

"Yes," said Snape.

"Thank you, Professor Snape. Your witness, Minister," said Mr. McGonagall.

Someone on the other side of Ginny muttered something very uncomplimentary about said Minister as Fudge got to his feet. Harry shared the Weasley brothers' sentiments more than ever, feeling a surge of loathing that made his heart race as Fudge fixed calculating, beady eyes on Snape. And he found that he suddenly appreciated Snape's ability to stare a person down, for the Potions Master matched the Minister's gaze with a smoldering glower of his own as Fudge began.

"So, Professor, you've changed your mind about Sirius Black, is that it?"

Coldly, Snape replied, "As far as his guilt in the matter of the Potters and Peter Pettigrew, yes."

"But as far as the rest of your opinion of him?"

"I still think him a bloody arrogant bastard, if that's what you mean," Snape replied.

Sirius grinned nastily. A few people let out nervous chuckles. Fudge smiled, which Harry took as a bad sign. "Professor Snape, didn't you insist after the initial capture of Black three years ago that he had used a Confundus Charm to convince the other eyewitnesses of Peter Pettigrew's involvement?"

"I did."

"In fact, you were very vehement in your denials of Black and the students' story, weren't you?"

"I was."

"And you had already been overcome by them once that night, correct?"

"Yes," Snape growled.

"And yet now you claim they were telling the truth?"

"Since I have seen Pettigrew with my own eyes, yes."

Harry found himself breathing faster. Fudge was still smiling. "Ah, yes, of course. You admit your error three years ago in not believing Harry Potter." His gaze briefly went into the benches. Ron growled, and Ginny was holding Harry's hand so tight that her knuckles were white. Fudge went on, "Professor, really, you've explained on and on what you think of Sirius Black. Isn't there the slightest chance in your mind that he engineered this scheme to win his freedom?"

"He could not have Confunded Albus Dumbledore," Snape retorted. "Nor me into seeing Peter Pettigrew serving the Dark Lord for the past two years."

"Ah, yes, in your _spying_ duties," said Fudge.

Ron stiffened, and Hermione murmured, "Here it comes."

"Why did you insist so strongly that Harry Potter and his friends were Confunded?"

"I assumed they had been. I was wrong."

"Ah, yes, wrong," said Fudge with a sly smile. "Like so many people who disagree with Harry Potter."

"Objection," Mr. McGonagall snapped as Harry stiffened.

"Goes to credibility," said Fudge.

"Overruled," said Madam Bones. Ginny uttered a rude word, getting murmurs of agreement from her brothers, and Harry braced himself as Fudge turned back to Snape.

"Professor Snape, I also recall from that night that you were somewhat disenchanted with the wizarding world's young hero, weren't you?"

"I believed he was involved with Black's escape," Snape said tonelessly.

"And now?"

"I still believe it. Potter's made a career of winding up where he doesn't belong," said Snape. Ron snorted.

"That wasn't quite what I meant," said Fudge, still smirking. He didn't smirk nearly as well as Snape, but it unnerved Harry anyway. "I was referring to your well-established animosity toward Harry Potter."

Harry blinked. Snape's face betrayed no expression. "I do not understand the question."

Fudge's smile broadened, and people in the benches around Harry were starting to shift curiously. "Did you or did you not, for the past five years, express repeatedly to a variety of listeners your unmitigated dislike of Harry Potter?"

Snape scowled. "I did."

"Were you telling the truth then?"

"Yes."

"And now? Would you say your attitude toward the boy is as antagonistic as ever?"

Snape hesitated. Hermione sucked in her breath. Several members of the Wizengamot, not to mention the press, leaned forward. Fudge added lightly, "I remind you that you are under oath, my dear sir."

Through clenched teeth, Snape answered, "No."

Whispers rippled through the room, and Harry's heart began to pound. Fudge went on gleefully, "In fact, you now tutor Harry Potter in Remedial Potions, do you not?"

"Yes."

"And do you extend such assistance outside class to any other NEWT-level students?"

"No," Snape growled.

Harry fought the urge to groan as he realized what Fudge was up to. _Who would have thought he'd try to convince everyone that SNAPE was lying to protect me?_

Fudge was just getting started. "Harry Potter looks up to his _godfather_ a great deal, doesn't he, Professor?"

"I suppose so."

"It would distress the child very much to lose him, wouldn't it?"

"Yes."

"And you yourself have complained about Albus Dumbledore's favoritism toward him, haven't you?"

"I have, but—"

"Wasn't it on Dumbledore's orders that you began tutoring Potter outside class?"

"Yes," Snape practically snarled.

"But now you too are enamored of the boy, aren't you?"

"Objection!"

"I am NOTHING of the kind!" Snape roared, leaping to his feet. Harry was grateful to see Fudge backing up hastily.

"Order!" snapped Madam Bones.

Fudge visibly collected himself, and Snape sat back down. But to Harry's horror, the Minister began smiling again. "Professor Snape, you trusted Albus Dumbledore a great deal, didn't you?"

"I trusted him entirely," Snape replied.

"You walked into You-Know-Who's circle of Death Eaters on his word, you said?"

"Yes, as a spy."

"A spy, indeed, very valuable," Fudge simpered. Harry was breathing very fast. "You fooled You-Know-Who for years."

"Yes, I did," Snape retorted.

"Did you ever kill in the course of your...spying?"

The looks some people were shooting Snape disturbed Harry greatly. More so when Snape replied flatly, "Yes."

"And on Dumbledore's word, you threw that spying duty away to rescue little Harry Potter."

There was a murmur of displeasure at those words, and Snape noticed it. Fixing cold black eyes on Fudge, he replied, "To rescue a student held prisoner, yes."

"But that student happened to be Harry Potter."

"Yes."

"But..." Harry was feeling a tremendous urge to beat that smile off Fudge's face with his fists, "you suggest that had the student not been the Boy Who Lived, you would still have gone if Dumbledore had sent you."

"Yes," Snape replied without hesitating.

"Even though it meant losing valuable intelligence?"

"Yes."

"Even if it had meant your life?"

Every witch and wizard in the courtroom seemed to lean forward on their benches waiting for Snape's reply.

"Yes."

"Professor Snape, if Albus Dumbledore had sent you on a mission from which you knew there would be no return, would you have gone?"

"Yes."

"You owed Dumbledore very much, didn't you?"

"Objection, is there a point to this line of questioning?" asked Mr. McGonagall, sounding bored.

"I'd like to know that myself, Minister," said Madam Bones.

Fudge actually turned and bowed to her, making Ginny growl under her breath, and confirming Harry's fear that he still had more up his sleeve. "Very well, Madam, I shall sum up this 'line' in a final question: Professor Snape, you have told this court under oath that you would spy, kill, or die on Albus Dumbledore's word. Wouldn't you also lie?"

Harry's breath caught. So did many other people's. Snape did not answer.

"You owed Albus Dumbledore everything. But for him, you'd be rotting in Azkaban as the Death Eater you once were, wouldn't you? You would have done anything he asked, including lie to the Wizengamot for the sake of Harry Potter, wouldn't you?"

"Objection!" Mr. McGonagall said, for the first time sounding irritated.

Harry was holding his breath. Madam Bones was watching Snape and Fudge, looking troubled.

And Snape still wasn't answering.

"Shall I repeat the question?" Fudge drawled.

Slowly, furious, Snape said, "I would have died for Albus Dumbledore had he asked me to. But he never asked me to die. Nor did he ever ask me to lie."

"But you lied to You Know Who, didn't you?" Fudge pressed. "You were the perfect spy—a _Death Eater_ with only one chance of escaping justice. And the late great Albus Dumbledore did adore Harry Potter, didn't he? Your only means of protection against You Know Who AND the Ministry was to stay in Dumbledore's favor, wasn't it? Is it so hard for this court to imagine that you might lie here?"

"But Dumbledore is NOT here," Snape shot back.

"No, but now Harry Potter's head of House is Headmistress, and we all know HER record where Potter is concerned!"

"Objection!"

"Sustained," said Madam Bones. "That is quite enough, Minister."

Fudge turned back to Snape, his simper having slowly given way to an outright sneer. "Professor Snape. You became a spy for Dumbledore in the year 1981, did you not?"

"Yes."

"And before that, you were...a Death Eater?"

"Yes," Snape said coldly.

"Who only had a sudden change of heart the very year You-Know-Who was first destroyed?"

"It was that year, yes."

Scratching his head as though greatly puzzled, Fudge glanced over his shoulder at the jury. "Then tell us, _Professor:_ Why in heaven's name should this court of justice and honor believe a single word you say?"

* * *

**_Minister for Prosecution: Black's Witness List Full of Death Eaters and Werewolves!_ ** **_Harry Potter to Testify Tomorrow! A Rita Skeeter Exclusive!_ **

"You have to eat, Harry," Hermione said quietly at dinner that night. The Great Hall was very quiet. Everyone was buzzing over the _Daily Prophet_ and glancing surreptitiously at the Gryffindor Table. "You'll feel even less like it tomorrow, but you can't go into this on an empty stomach."

Harry wasn't listening. He'd read what Fudge had told the newspapers after the day's testimony was over.

_I must say, this is the most cockamamie defense I have ever seen! Wizards faking their own deaths, bringing people back from beyond the veil, a silver hand that can block a Killing Curse—even You-Know-Who can't do some things!_

_Now, I'll not have you think I blame poor Harry Potter. That child has been through enough to make any grown man shudder. It's no wonder the boy was vulnerable to Black's scheming—I suspect we'll discover that there were some charms or Potions involved with winning Harry's trust. A shameless monster like Black is just the sort to prey upon the vulnerabilities of an orphan._

Remus had been right. Fudge was going to try to convince everyone that Harry was some sort of mental case touched in the head from everything that'd happened.

_Blimey, it's a wonder I'm not..._

Funny thought, that. Especially back in third year, when he'd been hearing his mother and father's voices when the dementors came, how badly he'd wanted a family...Sirius had been watching him all year. He had probably known what Harry saw when the dementors were around.

And Sirius was a good wizard...what if he...Harry had been so shaken by everything that night in the Shrieking Shack, what if Sirius... _had_ done something to him...to save himself...

The rest of the denizens of Hogwarts's Great Hall were distinctly rattled when Harry Potter abruptly burst out laughing. Ron and Hermione jumped, then watched Harry with alarmed expressions until he stopped. Neville had a forkful of meat halfway to his mouth, and Ginny was staring.

"Harry..." Ron said cautiously, taking care not to touch him. "Are...are you okay?"

Wiping his eyes, Harry nodded, grinning to himself, "Yeah, fine, Ron. I need to go to...Remedial Potions."

"Now?" Hermione asked doubtfully.

"Yeah," Harry stood up, not really seeing them anymore. "See you later, okay?" And he headed out of the Hall, oblivious to the stares of his friends.

* * *

 

He knocked for almost five minutes before Snape came to his office door, looking very annoyed. "Potter, what in God's name do you want?"

Harry folded his arms. "Remedial Potions, for one thing. And to talk to you. Sir."

Shaking his head in disgust, Snape turned away, but left the door open so Harry could follow. Once it closed, Snape turned back and said sourly, "I trust you enjoyed today's revelations?"

"Oh, lay off!" Harry snapped, too agitated to mind his words. "They were revelations all right, like what a git Cornelius Fudge is, how gullible people are, and that Remus had already resigned BEFORE you ratted him out, not to mention all that stuff about Sirius after my parents died."

Snape crossed the floor of his office, absently turning around one of the jars with some unrecognizeable blob inside before facing Harry again. "And?" he asked snidely.

Harry sighed. "And everything you've done for me. Everything you've risked."

"I suppose that's as close to gratitude as I'll get from a Potter," Snape remarked.

"I've thanked you before," Harry grumbled, starting to pace himself. He sighed again. "I really thought they'd believe you."

"I warned McGonagall that I might not be the unimpeachable witness he hoped. No one trusts a Death Eater. Ever."

"You're not a Death Eater!" Harry protested.

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Potter, I daresay that will convince everyone NOT in a position to influence the outcome of this trial," Snape sneered.

Harry threw himself into the chair opposite Snape's desk without being invited. "We're losing, aren't we?"

"It rather depends on whose side you are on, doesn't it?" When Harry shot him a furious look, Snape actually seemed to relent. "You had best prepare yourself for tomorrow. It will be unpleasant, and quite possibly in vain."

"I know," Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead. His scar itched. "That's why I came." He got up again, facing Snape and trying to look taller. "We have to prove Pettigrew's alive."

"Dear god, the boy's trying to bring me into one of his harebrained schemes," Snape snorted.

"Will you cut it out?" Harry shouted. "I'm coming to you for HELP! From the ORDER!"

"Be quiet!" Snape snapped at him and threw a Silencing Charm on the door and walls for good measure. "Potter, the trial will be over in forty-eight hours at the latest, and Sirius Black will most likely be convicted and back in Azkaban until the Minister can lure back a dementor or two."

"Then we'd better work fast, hadn't we?" Harry shot back.

Snape cut him off with a wave of his hand. "The proof would have to be unquestionable, that Pettigrew is alive AND in the Dark Lord's service!"

"Then..." Harry hesitated for a moment. "We'd have to capture Wormtail. HE'D be the proof. Nobody could say Sirius was guilty of killing him then, and I bet he'd confess once he was cornered to killing my parents."

"He always stays close to the Dark Lord," Snape told him. "Pathetic little bastard, but he has his uses. They won't allow his existence to be discovered easily."

"But he's _their_ spy," Harry argued. "He's probably around the trial somewhere, watching. Especially since we're trying to tell everyone about him. I bet you anything he's there!"

Snape shot him a withering look, "Do not suggest betting anything, Potter, or you may find yourself paying that price. Pettigrew may be a coward, but to survive as long as he has in anonymity, he is not a fool. He will not reveal himself easily."

It suddenly occurred to Harry, as he paced around the room with Snape watching him, that Snape hadn't said...no. He hadn't refused outright. With that rush of hope, Harry slowed down his rambling and said carefully, "Maybe if we could lure him somehow. If there was a way to tempt him into it..."

"As with all of them, he desires the Dark Lord's approval. The day a Death Eater loses his usefulness is often his last day on earth," Snape said slowly. "There is little information being revealed at the trial that would tempt Pettigrew to risk exposure. Every word spoken there appears in the _Daily Prophet._ "

"So information's not good enough then," said Harry, turning toward him and meeting his eyes.

Snape stared at him, then snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, Potter."

"It'd work, wouldn't it?"

"No, it wouldn't bloody work!" Snape snapped at him. "Do you honestly believe a single member of the Order of the Phoenix would consider YOU a risk worth taking for capturing Peter Pathetic Pettigrew?"

"It'd save Sirius!"

"IF you succeeded in getting the rest of the Order to agree to this, IF we managed to prepare a suitable trap by tomorrow morning, IF Pettigrew in fact took the bait, and IF he didn't end up killing another thirteen people in his escape this time, you might succeed in exonerating the mangy mutt!" Snape informed him sarcastically. "I rather doubt even Black would consider it worth the risk."

"Well, I do!" Harry said fiercely.

"You are sixteen years old, Potter," Snape said. "You will find that your priorities are distinctly different from those of us who have been fighting this war for decades."

"It'd be a blow to Voldemort too, to lose Wormtail," Harry insisted. "You said yourself he's valuable! If we exposed him, he'd stop being useful!"

"It would require more resources than the Order has, to set such a plan in motion while still protecting you," Snape told him.

"So get some Aurors in on it," Harry replied. "We have enough who sympathize with us now, we could probably get enough. Look..." he took a step towards Snape, "Professor, the Order needs Sirius too. You said yourself once he was capable," (Snape muttered something about taking it back, but Harry ignored him,) "and we could hit Vol—sorry, the Dark Lord too. He'd lose his best spy and we'd gain one more member of the Order—free. And Fudge out of the way!"

Snape snorted. "I cannot deny the last thought has its appeal." Harry felt himself grin, but Snape fixed him with a hard stare. "There will...be...NO...heroics, Potter." Harry opened his mouth, but the Potions Master held up a hand. "I will present your idea to the Order. I do not doubt that others will see merits to the suggestion, but whatever their decision, you WILL abide by it, do you understand?"

Harry nodded calmly. "So long as you ask them."

"If they approve, you will do precisely what we say, when we say, and under no circumstances attempt to take matters into your own hands, including ANY attempt to go after Pettigrew on your own."

Harry took a deep breath. "Okay." Snape looked hard at him, and he nodded, trying to sound older than he felt right at that moment. "I agree. I'll follow orders."

"In that case," Snape went to a bookshelf on one wall and pulled out a narrow text, marking two pages. "These spells have not yet been covered in your Defense classes. They are normally taught only to Aurors, but should you confront Pettigrew or any other Death Eaters, you will need them. Learn them while I speak to the Headmistress."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

The next morning found Severus Snape working his way through the milling reporters and bystanders outside the Ministry building. Publicity and public curiousity were running so high in anticipation of Harry Potter's testimony that anti-Muggle charms had been placed around the surrounding city blocks, and signs at the entrance to the area warned of a gas main break.

Slipping out of the crowd, Severus joined Alastor Moody in what any bystander would assume was two fellow defense witnesses taking a stroll outside to relieve the tension. "Potter's on his way out now," Moody muttered at him.

"Where's Lupin?" Severus asked.

"Arthur's talking to him downstairs," said a voice in Snape's ear. Tonks, from the sound of it. "He thinks Harry's with Ron and Hermione."

Severus glanced casually down the street and spotted the Metamorphmagus, to all appearances just another curious spectator, mingling in the crowd. The Long Listeners (a variant on Weasley Extendable Ears made exclusively for the Order) enabled the team of Aurors and Order Members to communicate over hundreds of yards, sometimes nearly a mile, without speaking above a whisper.

"I just got visual on Potter," said Emmeline Vance from inside the building. "He's given his friends the slip; coming up the back exit."

"Impressive, the boy does know how to follow directions," Severus muttered.

Someone snorted at him. "You don't give him enough credit, Snape," said Auror Snetterton. "How fast did the lad learn the Crystal Ball Shield?"

Severus didn't answer, and several voices laughed in his ear. "Less than an hour," Tonks supplied.

"Shut up, you lot, keep your eyes on the job," said Moody sharply, and they subsided.

"He's on the road, headed my way," said Lee Jordan. Anyone who saw the boy would assume Potter had had enough of the crowds and was sneaking out to clear his head. Severus spotted the boy as he and Moody took the road parallel to him. Perhaps Potter was a better actor than he thought, at least when it came to feigning aimless wandering.

"Are you Disillusioned?" Tonks asked someone.

"Yeah, he's passing me now," said Jordan.

"Vance, report?" said Moody.

"In position," Emmeline said. "Park's empty behind me; I put up a ward-off charm at the end of the street for anyone here to watch the trial. They'll stay close to the Ministry for the next hour."

"Anything on the south side of the street?" Snape asked.

"We're clear here—wait..." Snetterton hesitated, and everyone held their breath. When the old Auror spoke again, his voice was even lower. "Rat in the gutter, lads, repeat, rat in the gutter. About fifty yards north of me."

"Have you got a visual on its paw yet?" hissed Vance.

"Not yet, but he's headed my way...wait..."

"Potter just passed me," Vance announced. "I'm about to Apparate ahead of him again—Snape, Moody, keep UP with him!"

Severus blinked, cursed himself, and he and Moody quickly sped up to walk parallel to Potter again. "Any bloody time now, Snetty..." Moody muttered.

"Not all of us have enchanted eyes, my lad, so mind your own...wait...confirmed, repeat, I confirm, we have a rat with a silver paw moving south toward Frimley Park."

"Got that, Harry?" Tonks's voice said in a whisper. "Turn toward the park. We'll have a clear sight of you AND him there."

"Mm-hm," was the cautious reply.

"Good lad," said Snetterton.

"Snetty, don't lose the rat..."

"I've got him, Jordan, relax. Hang on, let me get out of his way...he's passing me in front of the old florist's shop. Don't know if he can see Potter from here, but he's definitely moving toward the boy."

"Got visual," said Vance. "Rat's headed straight toward the park."

"Slow down a bit, Harry," said Tonks. "Let him think he's heading you off."

Potter obeyed, shuffling his feet, appearing to all observers as nothing more than a sullen teenager with his mind occupied with sulking. Severus found himself once again unable to help feeling impressed. "Hold here," said Moody, catching him at a stone wall with a clear view of the park as the boy ambled toward it. "Vance and Snetty are closer; at this distance we can cut the little bugger off if he tries to run."

"Get ready to seal those sewers, Jordan," Snape ordered.

"All set."

"Rat's in the park," whispered Vance. "Maybe thirty feet in front of me."

"Potter, take a few steps to your left," said Moody. "Keep out of our line of fire."

As Potter obeyed, Severus caught a flicker of movement down the street on the opposite side of the park. "Snetterton, what's..."

"Bloody hell...we've got a Hogwarts student heading this way."

Moody swore. "Probably one of yours, Snape, if he's pushing through ward-off charms."

"That's a Gryffindor habit," Snape retorted, squinting at the vague figure wandering toward the park. _The last thing we need is some stupid brat getting caught in the crossfire..._

But something was off... "Snetterton, have you got a visual on a face yet?"

"His hood's up."

Moody turned sharply toward Severus. "What's a student doing with his hood up in May?"

Something hard and cold settled in Snape's chest. "I don't like the smell of this," muttered Tonks. "Harry, hold back a sec. We've got a...Harry?"

The boy was still walking. A curse at the teenager's recklessness died on Snape's lips when Jordan hissed frantically, "Did someone activate an anti-apparition ward around the park?"

"What? No!" Vance exclaimed.

"Potter!" Moody hissed into his mouthpiece. "Potter, come in! Emergency, Potter, respond!"

No answer.

"I've lost the signature of Potter's portkey!" Vance rasped, panic creeping into her voice.

"Uh, Snape, I've got visual on the other kid," said Snetterton shakily. "It's Draco Malfoy!"

Moody whipped out one of his muted pocket Dark Detectors, and began cursing furiously at the sight of it flashing all variety of warning colors, as Severus leapt over the wall. Sprinting with all his might toward the entrance to the park, he shouted at the top of his lungs.

_"Harry, it's a trap!"_


	43. Judgment Day

Harry felt the Order's tiny listening device in his ear stop working, and spun around. The sight of Snape charging openly into the park warned him that something had gone wrong, but movement from the corner of his eye made him turn back.

He found himself face to face with Peter Pettigrew.

"Hello, Harry," Wormtail simpered, but Harry didn't wait.

He threw himself to one side and conjured a shield. Pettigrew's Stunner bounced off, and Harry heard other people rushing across the grass. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw red robes, but also black ones. Death Eaters.

_Bloody hell._

But there wasn't time to think. Snape had drilled instructions into him until after midnight. _"If anything goes wrong, anything at all, get OUT, Potter, do I make myself clear?_ "

Firing off a few hexes at Pettigrew as he dove for cover, Harry grappled for his Portkey. As he'd feared, nothing happened. So he took a deep breath and charged for the street.

Only to find himself nearly surrounded by Death Eaters.

"Harry!" someone yelled.

The Death Eaters weren't playing around with him anymore, he noticed distractedly as he backed towards a tree, shielding himself frantically. Curses were coming at him from what felt like a dozen sources, and all he could do was shield, duck, shield, dodge, and try to keep moving.

A pair of arms seized him from behind, and he rammed elbow back, causing his captor to grunt and let go long enough for him to wrench free and dive behind, using the Death Eater as a shield. The dark wizard went down almost at once, hit by his own allies, but that gave Harry an opening to throw a few jinxes back at them.

He spotted Snape and Moody trying to work their way to him through the fray, so he headed in their direction.

"Potter, watch out!"

Harry didn't have a chance to see who had yelled before a powerful hex caught him in the chest, throwing him hard sideways right into a tree. The impact took his breath, and he distinctly heard—and felt—a sharp _crack_ near his left elbow.

He hit the ground face down, seeing stars, searing pain lancing up and down his left arm and making him nauseous, his ears roaring, but his mind screamed a single warning:

_Get up! Get up! SHIELD!_

From somewhere dangerously close, he heard curses encanted, and instinct took over. He raised his wand and threw up the strongest shield he knew, the Crystal Ball Block Snape had taught him last night. It erupted around him, a glassy sphere of magic, and he vaguely heard multiple hexes impact harmlessly against it. But as he'd been warned, such a shield was hard to hold for long, and when it collapsed, he doubled over, winded and starting to despair.

Someone grabbed him, he yelled and twisted to get free, but heard a voice hiss at him, "Come ON, Potter!"

Harry gasped with relief. It was Snape. He allowed the Potions Master to pull him to his feet, and they ran, conjuring shields and throwing hexes at black robes, making for the edge of the melee.

By now there were over a dozen wizards battling for each side, and the previously-quiet park was full of struggling bodies, flying debris, streaks of colored curse light, shouted instructions, shrieks for help, battle cries, and cries of pain. Snape yanked Harry along, shielding him both with magic and his own body, and Harry searched out Pettigrew in the mob, flinging as many hexes at the traitor as he could.

Then his scar flared with hot pain, and he doubled over with a hiss of surprise.

"Potter?"

"He's—here—"

Snape didn't ask who he meant. He just grabbed Harry by the shoulders and attempted to haul him physically to the cover of the shrubbery. Gritting his teeth against a blaze of agony wripping through his broken arm, Harry staggered along, but the two of them found their path suddenly blocked by Wormtail, brandishing his wand.

_"Ferito!"_

Snape shoved Harry aside, but the curse caught the Potions Master in the side of the head, throwing him to the ground. Harry shouted and threw up a shield while trying to pull Snape to his feet. "Potter!" Snape yelled, looking past Harry in visible panic.

Remembering too late, Harry turned, raising his wand, only to have a metallic hand close around his neck, yanking him away from Snape. He gasped, helpless as Wormtail's grip tightened, and heard people shouting his name, but there was nothing he could do—until a surge of something...else...rose up around his neck and forced Pettigrew's grip apart, letting him drop to the ground and scuttle away, coughing.

Snape reached him, wiping at the blood on his own face as he scrambled to Harry's side, but the Potions Master's eyes were on something between Harry and Wormtail. Harry, disoriented, couldn't see much in the dust and smoke in the air from the battle, but he suddenly noticed that Wormtail had frozen where he stood, staring with wild, horrified eyes at something Harry couldn't see.

"What—"

"Look out!" someone shrieked, and Harry had no time to react as the red-eyed figure of Voldemort loomed out of the battle, wand already brought to bear.

The Dark Lord shouted an unfamiliar curse, but it wasn't aimed at Harry. Instead, it was headed for whatever Pettigrew was staring at...but Harry had lost his glasses and couldn't make it out...Snape hauled him back, and abruptly yanked Harry around so he couldn't see.

_"Exilium Spiritus!"_

Harry felt the surge of magic in the air behind him and knew that whatever Voldemort's spell had done, it was something powerful. Snape released him, watching him with what might have been concern, and Harry babbled, "What—what did he—"

Snape looked shaken. "You didn't see?"

"No, I..."

"Never mind, come on! Move!" They staggered upright again. Wormtail was still frozen where he stood, apparently completely thrown by whatever he had seen, and others nearby were reacting the same way. Harry wondered distractedly what Voldemort had done—and where he had gone.

He got his answer. Snape swore furiously and reared back as Voldemort appeared in front of them, blocking their escape. "Severuusssss!"

 _"Percutio!"_ Snape roared, putting so much power into the curse that Harry felt his skin crawl.

Moody and Snetterton fired off a few curses of their own, but Death Eaters swarmed toward them and began driving them back, away from their Master and his prey. Time seemed to slow down as Harry took aim, and he and Snape threw every hex they could think of at Voldemort. The Dark Lord parried them easily, until a concussive curse from Snape actually staggered him.

"Well done, Severus," Voldemort sneered, blocking a hex from Harry. "I'd forgotten what a skilled dueler you were."

Then he threw a curse that sent Snape flying.

"No!" Harry cried as he saw his teacher hit the ground and lie motionless.

But Voldemort was not done. Harry whirled and began hexing the dark wizard as hard and fast as he could, but to his dismay and outrage, Voldemort did not try to use the Killing Curse. Instead, he matched Harry with shields and counter-curses, until they were spinning around each other in a blur of motion and colored light so fast that Harry couldn't see anything around him. His vision had tunneled to nothing but Voldemort.

And that was how Lucius Malfoy managed to hex him in the back.

Harry gasped, falling to his knees, and Voldemort's triumphant laughter rang in his ears. But there was only one thing in his mind: _Keep fighting!_

So he forced breath into his screaming lungs, took aim, and rasped out, _"Quassio!"_

It didn't have nearly enough power, and he didn't get the motion right. But it did hit, and Voldemort actually staggered. When the Dark Lord straightened, Harry spotted something on his dry, white skin.

Red. Blood.

Harry had made Lord Voldemort bleed.

And Voldemort was going to make him pay for it.

"Enough!" the snakelike wizard hissed at him. "This stalemate ends here, Potter!"

Harry realized what was coming and tried to brace himself, tried to turn away, to Occlude, to fill his mind with a wall of light...

But a spear of scorching black fire, sizzling with poisonous dark power, ripped into his mind, sending him toppling backwards until he could do nothing but lie on his back and scream at the top of his lungs.

It was worse than _Crucio_ Worse than possession. His mind was full of acid.

Images exploded in front of his eyes, burning their way out, but he fought. He was aware of nothing around him, but he fought. He thought of light, tried to conjure it in his mind, to drive the black poison out, but the will behind it was unrelenting, burning its way in...

The last of Harry's walls of light tore apart under a searing invasion of black hate, and a voice thundered into his mind...

_THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES..._

"NOOOOOOO!" he screamed, tears of agony streamed down his face. _Stop it STOP IT STOP IT!_

_BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES..._

He had to fight! He HAD to! He pushed, he screamed and writhed on the ground, feeling that his brain was sizzling away as the black snake sought the words and tore them into the open...

_AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT..._

He tried. He did. He was blind with agony, screaming so hard he couldn't breathe, but all he thought of was closing his mind, shutting Voldemort out before...

_AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER, FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES..._

Someone was yelling behind him, but Harry's screams were from agony and defeat. It was gone. He'd lost it. He'd failed...

_THE ONE WITH THE POWER..._

And then it was as though a pair of magical arms wrapped themselves around his chest, bracing him from behind, and he felt a surge of power in his mind, but friendly power. Vaguely familiar, it seemed to lift him, battered and torn to shreds, and strengthened him, and he could see Voldemort again. With that new ally in his mind, he stiffened and cried out from sheer effort as he forced the snake back in a blaze of white light.

It was gone. Harry slumped forward, his mind torn to shreds, helpless. He squinted in the painful light of day to see Voldemort, red eyes blazing, standing triumphant.

"Either must die at the hand of the other...to think I feared what would follow if I tried to destroy you again...the hour of victory is at hand, Potter!"

Gasping for breath, Harry raised his wand and threw a few rather feeble curses, which Voldemort knocked aside, laughing.

"Embrace your fate, pitiful boy! You could not have hoped to stand alone against me! Your parents' shades have gone at last, but you will see them yourself soon! _Avada_ _Kedav—_ "

Harry flinched in anticipation of death, but a flash of yellow light struck Voldemort...from _behind!_ The Dark Lord staggered and turned around...to see an utterly terrified Draco Malfoy huddled against a tree, frozen with his incriminating wand still extended. "No..."

 _"You!_ " With a shriek of inarticulate rage, Voldemort threw a powerful curse at Malfoy, but a hex from somewhere behind Harry knocked him off balance, and it missed, although it was still enough to knock Malfoy off his feet. "You DARE to curse me!"

"DRACO!" roared an outraged Lucius Malfoy, but Voldemort raised a furious hand, having forgotten all about Harry, it seemed.

"Stand aside, Lucius! He will pay for this!"

* * *

 

Severus Snape never imagined he would face a moment such as this. The Dark Lord's back was turned, his attention distracted. There was time to reach Harry and get the boy safely behind the Auror lines, possibly the only chance now that the Dark Lord had ripped the prophecy from Harry's mind. The boy was too badly wounded in body and mind to put up a fight now.

But Draco...

The Dark Lord would kill him.

Severus had to think of Harry Potter, their one chance of winning this war, he had to keep his priorities...

_Draco_

All sense said that he had to save Harry...

_Draco_

The Slytherin boy was cowering worse than Pettigrew at the moment, too terrified to move as Voldemort advanced on him, prepared to deal out an undoubtedly painful demise...

_Must think of duty...must get to Potter..._

_No._

Severus charged across the grass past Harry, catching the boy with a _Mobilicorpus_ that tossed him a few yards closer to the Auror lines in the hope that they would reach him, but he would have only one chance to reach Draco.

 _"Ictus!"_ A powerful curse aimed at where Potter had drawn blood earlier actually threw the Dark Lord to his knees, and a Stunner followed to hold off Lucius. _"Mobilicorpus!"_ Draco flew into his arms with a yelp of panic, but then their time ran out.

Voldemort staggered to his feet, angrier than Severus had ever seen him—which was saying something—and Severus felt the power sizzling to life even before the Dark Lord incanted whatever curse he was preparing...

But there was a shout from some yards away that made the Dark Lord pause.

"VOLDEMORT!"

It was Harry's voice. Something made Severus turn, but it had caught the Dark Lord's attention as well. The wounded Gryffindor was still on the ground, still too near to the Death Eaters for the Aurors to fight their way to him, but he had raised himself partly up on his uninjured arm, and was staring at the Dark Lord with a very unnatural look in his green eyes.

It was a few seconds before Severus realized what Harry was doing.

_Bloody hell..._

Even stranger was the fact that it worked. The Dark Lord stood motionless, taken by surprise by Potter attempting to invade HIS mind, and that bought Severus time to sprint for cover.

"DRACO!" Lucius shouted, but the dazed teenager held onto Snape's robes as he attempted to stagger along with Severus to safety. Severus literally threw the fair-haired boy into the arms of Tonks and Vance, then spun around and incanted a Crystal Ball Block around Harry. It broke the connection between the boy and the Dark Lord, but Severus saw Voldemort stagger. Harry had collapsed altogether, but the Dark Lord had apparently had enough, and Disapparated.

Panting for breath, Severus stumbled toward the fallen Gryffindor, amazed at what Harry had just done—and keenly aware that the boy had just saved both his and Draco's lives—but Lee Jordan got to him first, turning him over.

"He's alive."

Snetterton joined him. "Hurt bad, though. Portkey to Hogwarts, fast."

Severus scrubbed at his bloody face and glanced toward Draco. The Slytherin boy was also unconscious, as several Aurors milled around him with calculating expressions. Deciding Draco was in more danger at the moment, Severus hastened back to his side. "I'll take charge of Malfoy."

"He came with them, Snape," said Moody darkly.

Severus glared at him. "He's a Hogwarts student. He also just saved Harry Potter's life. He has sanctuary at the school."

Someone muttered about "son of a Death Eater," and Severus suspected a standoff was imminent. "Boy needs to be interrogated."

"I know about your interrogations. Draco stays at Hogwarts."

"That's for the Headmistress to decide," said Moody stubbornly.

"And she has." Severus had always gotten on well with Minerva McGonagall, but never in his life had he been so very pleased to see her. She narrowed her eyes at the Aurors until they reluctantly shuffled out of her way, then said, "Professor Snape, kindly see Mr. Malfoy back to the hospital wing and make sure _both_ of our students are treated?"

"Yes, Headmistress," Severus said, unable to resist shooting the Aurors a sneer as he collected Draco.

_I thought I had lost him to the Dark Lord after all. I will be damned if I lose him to you._

* * *

 

How the worst of all the unpleasant post-battle duties ended up falling to him, Severus would have dearly loved to know. But by some mischance of fate, it was he who was forced to trek to the lower levels of the Ministry of Magic, bypassing skittish Aurors and hysterical reporters, to report the news of a certain student's injury to his loosely-termed "next of kin."

Black sprang off his bench the minute Snape came into view of his cell. "What the hell happened? None of these asses will tell me anything!" he cried, indicating his guards.

Sauntering up to the bars, Snape sneered, "Had I a choice in the matter, you would get nothing from me either."

"Bloody drop it, Snape!" the mongrel snapped. "I know there was an attack; how badly is Harry hurt?"

To Snape's annoyance, he could not deny that Black's desperation was genuine. And that made toying with him less amusing, even if he'd thought the man would rise to the bait. Curtly, he informed Potter's godfather, "He sustained no permanent damage. A compound fracture to the arm and severe bruising were the worst of the physical injuries."

Black leaned against the cell bars, arms folded, staring at the floor. "And other than physical?"

At first, Severus was surprised that Black was so receptive, until he recalled that the man had been present the first time Harry had tried to repell a full-power mental assault.

"The Dark Lord Legilimized him violently. We repelled it after several moments, but he's suffering aftereffects." Seeing Black's expression, he scowled and admitted, "He is in considerable pain."

Black squeezed his eyes closed and sank back onto the bench. "Oh god." He swallowed hard and muttered, "He'll be all right, though?"

"Yes, once the potions have had time to work. Your trial should resume within forty-eight hours." To Snape's surprise, Black showed little interest in his own fate. "The greater concern about Potter is that the Dark Lord will undoubtedly be stepping up his efforts to personally dispatch the boy."

Black's eyes snapped open, and what color was left in his face drained away. "It's...true? What they're saying about...the prophecy?"

There was no point in denying it; it was no longer a secret. "Yes. 'Either must die at the hand of the other.' The Dark Lord ripped it from the boy's mind."

"But..." Black's breath was actuallly hitching. "How could Harry have known it? They said it was lost!"

"Albus knew it. He told Potter last year after the Department of Mysteries."

Wide-eyed, not seeming to see Severus, Black whispered, "Why didn't he tell me?"

"I believe he feared it would _distress_ you," Severus said dryly.

He was intensely relieved when a shadow of the familiar bastard version of Black returned, shooting him a derisive glower. "I suppose you told him not to."

"Unlike yourself, Black, I had better things to occupy my mind than seeking new ways to slight you."

"Could have fooled me," Black growled. He stood up and began to pace. "What the hell was Harry doing outside the Ministery to begin with?"

 _This will be good._ "Trying to capture Peter Pettigrew. The Order was with him; unfortunately, the Dark Lord apparently had the same idea."

Black reacted just as Severus predicted: spinning towards the bars, eyes wild. "YOU planned this?"

"I said 'the Order,' did I not?"

"I can't believe they'd let Harry try something like that; what'd you do, warn them five minutes beforehand?"

"Pipe down, you mangy stray," Snape retorted. "You know well how I felt about the brat's antics to date. I approved this attempt, only because this is the first time the boy has been capable of seeing real action."

"And look what happened!" Black shouted, lunging at the bars.

Severus stepped back and replied, "Missions go wrong. You of all obnoxious Gryffindors ought to know that. Potter was injured, but he survived. And bloodied the Dark Lord doing it, not to mention, making a mental attack of his own."

Black shook his head furiously. "You should never have let him get that close, prophecy or no prophecy."

"Wake up, Black!" Snape snapped. "We cannot win this war without Potter's involvement. He is the _only_ one who can destroy the Dark Lord, and even notwithstanding that, he is extremely powerful. We would be fools not to use him."

Black was actually shaking. "It's so easy for you to talk of using people, isn't it? That's all you ever do, but this is my godson you're talking about."

"I meant allowing him to fight," Snape shot back. "And if our positions were reversed, you would insist on the same thing!"

"But Harry's not ready!" Black cried.

"You have a dangerous habit of underestimating people, Black," Severus told him. "Potter decided for himself that he was ready a long time ago; sooner or later, the Order would have to permit him to become involved."

"And Remus and I get no say in this?" Black demanded.

"Not if you're unable to be impartial where the boy is concerned," Severus replied. "We have no time for parental sentiments, particularly when they are causing you to deny what must be. We are all fighting this war, but Harry Potter is the only one who can win it."

Black just stared at him, open-mouthed. There was really nothing more to be said. With a curt nod, Severus turned on his heel and strode out of the holding area. But he had not gone far, before he heard Black's wracking sobs echoing up the corridor behind him.

* * *

 

When Severus returned to the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey was waiting for him. "Ah, Severus, Mr. Malfoy woke about five minutes ago."

"Thank you," said Severus, and headed into the private section.

"I've kept an eye on him," Madame Pomfrey called after him. "No one has gone in or out."

Draco jumped when he opened the door, but didn't completely relax, even when he saw that it was Severus. "Professor."

Severus closed the door and cast a Silencing Charm. "Draco. How are you feeling?"

Draco fidgeted, staring at the bedclothes. "All right, I guess." He dared a glance at Severus. "Where've you been?"

"Making reports," Severus said.

Draco nodded, then swallowed nervously. "What's going to happen to me now?"

Severus took a few steps towards the boy's bedside, and Draco seemed to shrink just slightly. "That depends on how you answer my question. What were you doing there?"

"Goyle came," Draco blurted out. "He said we had to go right away! I didn't know what to do. If I'd said no, he might have...they might have found out...I don't know what he would have done..."

Severus held up a hand. "And what happened when you arrived?"

"Dad said it was time for me to leave Hogwarts. He told me to go join Mother at the mansion, and we would meet after his business was finished, but I heard them talking about heading off Potter at the park, so I went there instead—I didn't know what else to do! He said there'd be no turning back after today! I didn't know..."

Severus silenced him with a wave of his hand. "I see." Something tight and tense inside him began to relax, and he noticed Draco relaxing as well. "Your father was right. There is no going back after today."

Draco shuddered. "They're going to kill me, aren't they?"

"That will certainly be their intention, however, there are others who they have been intending to kill for far longer than you, and they have yet to succeed. You will be protected at Hogwarts as I originally promised, provided you follow my instructions and do not take any foolish risks." He said the last part in dry tone, not really in reference to Draco.

But Draco knew who he was referencing. "Do you really think Potter can _kill_ him?"

"He has the power, at least. If he doesn't, then we are all dead," Severus said bluntly. Draco cringed. "However, as I've said, the Dark Lord has been trying for years to destroy that boy, and failed. We may have a better chance than you think. Speaking of which, as foolish as it was, you may well have saved both our lives today."

Draco actually blushed. "Seemed like the right thing to do."

* * *

 

The only other private room of the hospital wing in use that night was pitch black, because its occupant could not bear even the faintest light. In spite of potions and healing spells, Harry's head still felt ten times its normal size, more painful than he had ever imagined possible. He was vaguely aware of a familiar presence beside his bed, holding his hand and occasionally changing the potion-soaked cloths on his forehead. His eyes were uncovered, but he couldn't bear to open them.

Even the soft sound of the doorknob turning caused a knife-like stab of pain through his head. He hissed involuntarily, and heard Remus Lupin move nearby. "Shut the door, quick," Remus whispered. "He can't stand the light."

"Has there been any improvement?" Harry was mildly surprised to hear Snape's voice, guarded and quiet, as though he was actually taking care not to cause further pain.

"A little," Remus answered. "He's been coherent for about an hour. Did you talk to Sirius?"

"Yes."

"How did he take it?"

"Predictably." Snape's voice, though still very quiet, betrayed a trace of irony.

"You're lucky there were bars between you." Remus's voice was calm as always, but Harry could sense the genuine fury emanating from the normally-controlled werewolf.

Snape snorted quietly. "As I told him, Lupin, the boy's involvement was an Order decision – not to mention inevitable. You could not prevent it forever."

"My objection," Remus hissed furiously, "is having been denied any chance to take part in this _Order decision,_ Severus, which I have no doubt was your doing."

"Because, like Black, you are incapable of being impartial where Potter is concerned, and I am not the only member of the Order who is aware of it," Snape retorted.

"We are Harry's guardians," Remus began hotly, but Harry mumbled at them,

"I'm right here, you know."

"Sorry, Harry," Remus said contritely, and Harry heard him come back to the bedside to pat his hand.

"Was the right thing to do," Harry said, wishing he could make himself sound more forceful without his head pounding. "For Sirius..."

"I know," Remus whispered, squeezing Harry's uninjured arm. "I just wish we had known about it beforehand."

Snape heaved a dramatic sigh, and said in the tone of one long-suffering, "I will take it under advisement."

"See that you do," Remus replied.

Which reminded Harry... "P'fessor, 'm sorry."

Snape sounded incredulous. "For what?"

"Failed at Oc'mency. Could'n keep 'm out, 'n he got the prophecy."

"It's not your fault, Harry," Remus said gently.

"Yea't is. I blew't completely."

"You did not," Snape said. "Your resistance was extremely powerful, but I no longer believe it is possible to block the connection between you completely."

Harry digested that information in silence. "So, Occlumency doesn't work on 'm?"

"Apparently not. Not for you. Not entirely," said Snape. "But given that...you did well. Very well."

"Oh," Harry said, surprised at Snape's attitude. Then he asked, "Professor, di'we get Wormtail?"

The prolonged silence should have been answer enough, but Harry waited until Snape replied reluctantly, "He escaped."

Frustration and anger surged through Harry with such intensity that it made his head throb, and he hissed. "Dammit!" He struggled to think straight past the pain in his head, and murmured, "Then when trial starts again, I have to convince'm, make'm b'lieve me..."

Remus squeezed his hand again. "Harry...you're not going to be testifying."

"What?" Harry actually tried to sit up, but hot agony erupted behind his eyes, and he gasped and groaned in frustration. He felt Remus gently push him back down. "Remus, have to testify...have to..." His head hurt so badly he could barely think.

"Harry, I'm sorry. There's just no point," Remus whispered.

"No..." Harry moaned in protest. He had to convince them...

"Shh," Remus held both of his hands. "It'll be all right. Just try to rest for now. We can't have you upsetting yourself."

How could he not be upset when he felt that despair was eating him alive? His head hurt so bad he thought he might throw up, the whole bloody battle had been a waste, and now they didn't even think his testimony would do Sirius any good. He had to do something, had to convince them.

He took a shaky breath, trying to push down the pain and nausea long enough to argue again, but Remus shushed him again, and a hand slipped under the compresses to touch his forehead. Cool magic seemed to reach into his mind, soothing away the worst of the pain, but once that happened, he was too tired to fight anymore and sank down into sleep.

* * *

 

"The next time you try to set a trap for Wormtail, you might at least tell your friends about it!" Ron grumbled at him after they found their seats in the courtroom two days later.

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead. His head still ached, but at least he could stand light again. Of course, it might not have bothered him nearly so much if he hadn't felt like this was the last time he would ever see Sirius.

"I barely managed to convince the Order to let _me_ do it," he told Ron. "The only way they'd agree was if I swore to keep it secret."

"Yeah, and look how well it all turned out," Ron muttered.

"Ron, hush!" Hermione hissed, elbowing him in outrage. Ron subsided, but still looked resentful.

Below them, Mr. McGonagall rose to resume the defense. _The doomed defense,_ Harry thought bitterly. Ginny squeezed his hand.

"I understand the defense wishes to revise its witness list?" asked Madam Bones.

"That is correct," said Mr. McGonagall. "All the defense witnesses previously listed for today, will not be called."

A collective gasp rose from the majority of the courtroom, followed by a rush of whispering. Harry heard his name muttered over and over; they all knew what this meant. The testimony everyone had anticipated the most would not be happening. Everyone was wondering what it meant for the defense. Sirius frowned, glancing at Mr. McGonagall, but looked slightly relieved when he looked back at Harry.

_Still trying to protect me._

"Does the defense intend to call any other witnesses?" Madam Bones continued.

"Only one," said Mr. McGonagall.

"Objection!" said Cornelius Fudge, glaring at the roll of parchment in his hand. "The prosecution should have had prior notice of any new witnesses."

"This witness is merely to authenticate the final piece of evidence that the defense wishes to produce," said Mr. McGonagall smoothly.

"You have additional exhibits?" asked Madam Bones.

"We do," said Mr. McGonagall, holding up a small parcel of what looked like some papers. "The prosecution is free to cross-examine our witness if they have any doubts about its origins or reliability."

Madam Bones glanced at the other members of the Wizengamot, and got several shrugs. "Objection overruled. Proceed."

Fudge shrugged as well and sat back down.

"The defense calls Miss Rita Skeeter."

Hermione let out a strangled noise of shock, which Ron, Ginny, and several other people on the defense's side of the courtroom echoed. The press section muttered amongst themselves in surprise as Rita, dressed in a glaringly red silk suit lined with black velvet, rose majestically from her seat and strutted her way to the witness stand. Fudge frowned, Sirius blinked, and the majority of the Wizengamot exchanged baffled glances.

Rita settled herself primly and faced Mr. McGonagall.

"Please state your name and occupation for the record."

"My name is Rita Skeeter. I am a freelance reporter, licensed in wizarding Europe, Australia, and the United States," Rita replied.

"Miss Skeeter, two days ago, a disturbance took place in Frimby Park, approximately half a mile from the Ministry of Magic. Were you present during any part of this incident?"

"I was."

"How did you come to be present at that location?"

"I followed Harry Potter out of the Ministry building."

Ron elbowed Harry and pulled a baffled face. Harry shrugged; he certainly hadn't seen her.

"Did you lose track of Harry Potter at all after he left the Ministry building?"

"Only when I saw he was about to be attacked. I ran for help then."

Someone in Harry's row snorted. Harry rather agreed; he doubted it was help she had run for.

"How is that no one saw you?"

"I'm an investigative reporter," Rita said smugly. "Stealth is part of my trade." This time it was Hermione who snorted. Ron elbowed Harry and rolled his eyes.

"Did you return after summoning help?"

"Yes."

"Please describe to this court what you saw."

Rita cleared her throat and raised her voice. "I saw a battle between Death Eaters and Aurors. Harry Potter was right in the thick of it; he took some bad hits. But he gave a few too. And..." she paused dramatically, "I saw Peter Pettigrew."

The courtroom exploded. The press sprang to their feet, flashbulbs popping, shouting questions. The spectators were yelling, the Wizengamot were yelling, Fudge was yelling, half the people in Harry's section were yelling, and Madam Bones was banging her gavel furiously—and yelling.

"Order! Order!"

Ron and Ginny were both shaking Harry by the arms, also yelling questions at him, but Harry couldn't answer anyone. His heart was in his throat, and all he could do was look at Sirius. Sirius was sitting frozen in his chair, his mouth hanging open, and his eyes locked on Rita.

"Order, damn it! ORDER!"

At last, the tumult quieted. Everyone fell silent, but there was considerably more fidgeting from every person in the room. Madam Bones snapped at Fudge to shut up when he tried to object, and motioned for Mr. McGonagall to continue.

"Miss Skeeter, are you absolutely certain it was Peter Pettigrew that you saw?"

"Oh yes," Rita said innocently. "When Harry Potter claimed he had faked his death, my photographer and I did some research and conjured a time-accelerated image of what he would look like at this age."

"I see," said Mr. McGonagall. He reached onto the defense table and picked up the small parcel. "The defense wishes to introduce these photographs and designate them Exhibit C."

"So ordered," said Madam Bones.

"Objection!" Fudge cried. "There's no pr—"

"Overruled," replied Madam Bones. "You may continue with your authentication, Mr. McGonagall."

"Thank you, Madam," said Mr. McGonagall.

Both Ron and Ginny had Harry by the arms, their mouths hanging open. Harry held his breath.

Mr. McGonagall approached Rita and handed her the photographs. "Would you please explain to the court how these pictures came into your possession, Miss Skeeter?"

Rita smiled. "My photographer took them...in Frimby Park."

Everyone gasped, and Madam Bones slammed her gavel onto the bench. The courtroom fell silent again.

"How did your photographer come to be in Frimby Park?"

"Oh, when I went for help...I summoned my photographer as well."

Harry couldn't feel either of his hands, Ron and Ginny were squeezing his arms so hard.

Mr. McGonagall carried another stack of photographs over to the jury. The first wizard in the section snatched them from him and began pouring over them as his neighbors eagerly leaned over his shoulders, and other jury members began hissing at them to pass them down.

"Would you please tell the court the subject of these photographs?"

Rita held up the first one, beaming as the flashbulbs began to pop. "This is Peter Pettigrew."

It was. Harry could see the image quite clearly, moving as wizard photographs did: Wormtail was dueling with Harry, right after the battle had started.

Rita held up the second photograph: "And this is Peter Pettigrew!" It was Wormtail, his silver hand wrapped around Harry's throat.

Rita held up a third photograph. "So is this..."

It was Wormtail cowering with Voldemort in the foreground. Many people hissed in horror.

"And this..."

Wormtail was running for cover as Harry and Snape dueled with Voldemort...

"And this..."

Wormtail was hiding behind a tree...

"And this..."

Wormtail was yelling instructions to two other Death Eaters...

"And finally, _this..._ "

Wormtail was transforming into a rat and scurrying away. Rita's photographer had caught the entire thing with his camera.

The courtroom erupted again. Now the Wizengamot members were yelling questions at Rita, the press was almost hysterical, the Aurors were having trouble keeping everyone in their seats, some people were sobbing, and Harry thought he might pass out. His head hurt tremendously from all the noise—but he didn't care.

"ORDER!" Madam Bones banged her gavel so hard that it broke in two. Finally, after repairing it and breaking it twice, she tossed it aside in favor of using her wand to send up red sparks. "I will have ORDER in this court—sit DOWN, Minister Fudge!"

Fudge was sweating profusely, but he did as she said.

Mr. McGonagall asked Rita, "I remind you now that you are under oath, Miss Skeeter. Do you confirm before this court that these photographs are genuine images of what you and your photographer saw in Frimby Park less than forty-eight hours ago?"

"I most certainly do," said Rita in a ringing voice. "I brought my photographer with me to document that battle, and we did, without falsifying a thing. Peter Pettigrew is alive, just as Harry said, and working for You-Know-Who! Sirius Black could NOT have murdered him!"

Mr. McGonagall's voice betrayed the barest hint of satisfaction. "Madam Bones, the defense rests."

Madam Bones nodded. "Minister, do you wish to cross-examine the witness?"

Fudge was white as a sheet. His mouth was moving, but no sound came out, making him look rather like a fish. His eyes darted from Rita to Madam Bones to Sirius, then to Harry.

"Minister? Has the prosecution rested as well?"

Fudge glanced at the photographs that Mr. McGonagall had slipped onto the table in front of him. Finally, he said in a weak voice, "The prosecution...er...the prosecution..."

Madam Bones looked distinctly bored with him. "Does the prosecution wish to proceed with their case against Sirius Black," she asked delicately, "or do they elect to...drop all charges?"

"Yes," squeaked Fudge.

"Which...one...Minister," Madam Bones practically growled.

"We..." Fudge shot the jury a glance, then mumbled, "the prosecution is dismissing its case against...against...the accused."

"So noted and ordered," said Madam Bones in an unmistakably triumphant voice. "All charges against the accused are dismissed! Mr. Black, you are free to go."

"YYYEEEEAAAAAHHH!" Ron flew out of his seat with an outright scream of elation. Ginny followed suit, Hermione broke down sobbing, and the rest of the Weasley boys let out whoops of triumph.

The chains on the defendant's chair abruptly fell limp to the floor, and Sirius sat back, too stunned to even move. Harry felt the same way.

Behind him, he could just see Remus from the corner of his eye, spinning Tonks around wildly. Professor McGonagall was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief while passing another to Mrs. Weasley, who was sobbing openly as Mr. Weasley jumped up and down.

"Come on, Harry! Come on!" Ron and Hermione tugged at him. "Let's go! Let's bloody GO! He's waiting, Harry!"

Harry couldn't move.

"Harry? I think we should collect your godfather and head home, don't you?" he heard Remus say behind him.

He still couldn't move.

"Harry, we won! Sirius won! He's free! Come on!"

He couldn't move. If he moved, it would all disappear. It couldn't be real. It was like a dream, and if he moved...something would go wrong. It couldn't be real.

"Harry?"

A softer voice amid all the yelling and shrieking penetrated Harry's dazed thoughts, and he blinked. Sirius was in front of him— _right_ in front of him. How he'd managed to get off the courtroom floor and up the steps into the stands, Harry didn't know, but here he was...

Harry held out a cautious hand, and Sirius took it.

_It's real._

Sirius broke into a grin as Harry took a dangerously shaky breath, and folded his godson into his arms. "It's okay," he muttered gruffly into Harry's ear. "It's okay, it's over. Come on, Harry."

"I'm okay!" Harry gasped, furiously trying to get a grip on himself. "I'm..." he pulled back, looked at Sirius's grinning face and overly bright eyes, and felt himself grinning insanely back. "I'm...we're..."

"Everyone's okay!" laughed Remus behind them, and Harry and Sirius began laughing too (if a bit hysterically.) He clapped them both on the shoulders. "Let's get out of here."

Ron and his brothers began yelling again and formed a dancing escort as Harry and Sirius moved out of the stands and fought their way through the bedlum in the courtroom. The Order Aurors and the elder Weasleys kept the worst of the crowd away from the former accused and his rather stunned godson, but Hermione suddenly groaned beside Harry.

"Oh, lord. Brace up, you two, here she comes. I guess we can't really stop her now, considering she won our case..."

Harry spotted red silk and rhinestone-studded glasses coming toward them in a blaze of flashbulbs, and Sirius quickly nudged him toward Remus. Harry started to protest, wanting to stay with his godfather, but Remus held him back as Sirius stood to await Rita and the inevitable barrage of questions.

Rita reached Sirius and extended her hand sweetly. " _Mister_ Black, I just wanted to—"

And Sirius seized her in his arms, dipped her halfway to the ground, and planted a resounding kiss right on her lips that went on...and on...

And on.

Then he straightened up, let her go, swung an arm around Harry's shoulders and strolled on toward the courtroom doors as if nothing had happened.

Harry and Hermione glanced back and saw Rita still standing where Sirius had left her with a dazed sort of half-smile on her face and rather distracted look in her eyes.

"Blimey," Hermione murmured. "I never would have thought of that."


	44. Homecomings

**_SIRIUS BLACK IS INNOCENT! PROSECUTION DROPS CHARGES!  
_ ** **_Photographic Evidence Proves Peter Pettigrew Alive, Framed Black for Potters' Murder!_ **

"So are you going to go live with him now?" Neville asked Harry in the Great Hall during lunch the next day.

"That's the plan," said Harry, helping himself to a sandwich. "Pass me the crisps."

"Has Sirius got the paperwork?" Hermione asked, holding the _Daily Prophet_ in one hand and an apple in the other. "Want one of these?"

"Yeah," Harry grabbed an apple out of the bowl and munched on it. "Remus and Mr. Weasley got it from the Ministry for him yesterday. It should be official by next week."

Ginny grinned at him. "That's great. Really great. He'll finally be your legal guardian."

"Been a long time coming," agreed Ron. "Where're you two going to live?"

"Headquarters, of course," Harry said, lowering his voice.

"I meant after that," said Ron.

"After what?"

"After the war!" Ron exclaimed, clouting him.

Harry swallowed a mouthful of food and gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling. "After the war..."

"It's not going to go on forever," Ginny said. "And you know Sirius hates that place. When the war's over, you don't have to stay there. We'll be going back to the Burrow, after all."

Hermione nodded. "You said something about living in the country once, where you could see the sky."

Harry sighed. "Yeah. We'd both like that. I guess it just seems a long way away."

"Not that long," Ginny told him, patting his arm. "Not that long."

Ron nodded across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table. "Looks like trouble in the snake den."

Harry surreptitiously glanced over his shoulder. There were noticeable gaps in the ranks of the elder Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle were gone, as were Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode. Draco Malfoy was by himself in his usual spot at the table, but the rest of the Slytherins were alternately ignoring him and staring at him as though trying to see into his head. From the Head Table, Snape was watching them all very closely.

"None of them know what to make of all this," said Hermione. "Malfoy's the last person anybody expected to see leave Voldemort."

"Weird," Ron mused. "I'm not sure _I_ know what to make of it. You sure it was...you know...honest?"

"Seemed pretty honest to me," said Harry. He leaned forward and said more quietly, "Ginny and I saw him come back, the night after the battle at the Fortress. He looked completely wrecked."

Hermione shook her head. "Malfoy always was a bit of a spoiled brat. I'd wager he got in, saw what really goes on with his dad's mates, and..." she pulled a face. "A reality check of sorts."

"Like Sirius's brother," said Ginny. She shrugged and stole a chunk of Cauldron Cake that Harry was eating. "I still don't like Malfoy, but that doesn't mean I want him dead. Hope Snape can keep him safe."

Harry lost interest in his food and sat back on the bench. "He hexed Voldemort, you know. At Frimby Park, after he found out the prophecy. Probably saved my life."

"Blimey," Ron muttered. "The prat's really lucky to be alive."

"Aren't we all," sighed Hermione.

* * *

 

Several days later, Professor Lupin held Harry back after the end of DADA. "I just wanted to share a bit of news with you," he said with a knowing smile.

"Sirius?" Harry asked eagerly.

Remus produced an official-looking scroll and handed it to Harry. "The Ministry has confirmed a Mr. Sirius Orion Black in the guardianship of one Harry James Potter, in accordance with the wills of Lily and James Potter, until young Mr. Potter reaches the age of majority."

With a giddy feeling inside, Harry unrolled the document and stared at the Ministry seal and the elegant, scripted words. He looked up at Remus. "Wow. It's...hard to believe it's all real."

Remus laughed and slung an arm around his shoulders. "It's real, signed, and sealed. No one but the two of you can ever change it."

Carefully rolling it up again, Harry asked, "Remus, what does this mean for...you? You know, during the trial..."

"Sirius made out his own will yesterday as soon as he got his copy of this," Remus said, indicating the document. "If anything should ever happen to him, I would be your guardian." He pulled a face. "Took a bit of legal maneuvering, given my status, but Mr. McGonagall helped us work it out. Have no fear, I'm not going anywhere."

Harry grinned. "Good."

"Oh, and one other bit of news," Remus added. "Headmistress McGonagall and the rest of the teachers discussed the current circumstances, and we decided that at least some of the danger surrounding your potential possession has passed. And thus, there is no reason to bar you from the Quidditch team for the final game of the season."

Harry's mouth fell open. "You...you mean..."

"I suggest you have a word with your team captain," Remus said sagely. "After all, you'd better be in top form when your godfather comes to watch the game!"

The thought had Harry's mind racing with a delirious excitement that felt completely alien after so many months—no, years—of black hopelessness. Was it only a week ago that there had seemed nothing to look forward to in the future at all?

"Thanks, Remus," he said breathlessly.

The werewolf grinned at him. "Be off with you. And kindly remember to study for your exams amid all this merry-making, if you please."

With a burst of helpless, delighted laughter, Harry actually ran out the classroom door, his bag slung over his shoulder.

* * *

 

As predicted, Ron and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team went absolutely mad when they learned Harry had been released from his ban, and joyously reinstated him as Seeker. They dragged him into practice almost every day, over the protests of Hermione, who insisted that Harry had missed so much class from his assorted injuries that he ought to be studying to make up for it.

"We may not have N.E.W.T.s yet, but sixth year exams are important too," she'd insisted.

Harry did study, though, because in a bizarre and not at all unwelcome way, he found a new, unexpected motivation: his new family. In the free, unrestrained, often-long and always-awaited letters that he and Sirius exchanged (sometimes several times a day) it had been made quite clear that Remus was to be just as much a part of Harry's life as Sirius was. His other parent, after a fashion, and this one here at school with him, available to talk to him any time, any time at all.

And Remus wanted Harry to do well in school, and worked with Harry on the school-related responsibilities. Not that Sirius wasn't interested in those things, but there seemed to be an unspoken accord between the two Marauders at last where Harry was concerned, giving Remus the lead in certain matters like school and running the D.A. and dealing with the Order. Sirius had plenty of counsel and support to give as well, and always paid full attention to anything Harry wanted to talk to him about, but Harry found it easiest to talk to him about the more...small-scale things. Things about Harry himself.

It was a weird, unaccustomed, and altogether wonderful experience. One that Harry had never had before, or even really imagined having: working from a desire to make someone proud. Someone like parents.

There were Death Eater attacks and fights at school and all sorts of chaotic uproars at the Ministry, as usual, but it didn't weigh on Harry and his friends as usual. There was even a spontaneous celebration when Cornelius Fudge lost his office in an overwhelming vote of no confidence. Madam Bones was appointed to the position of Minister in his place, and her Hufflepuff niece Susan held her head noticeably higher in the hallways after that. But Harry didn't mind; Susan was a nice girl, a member of the D.A., and if there were any doubts about the club's legitimacy remaining, they were gone now.

On the day of the Quidditch Cup match, (Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, surprisingly enough) the school positively sang with high spirits. This was the first time Hufflepuff had even made it to the final match in years, and although the general consensus was that Gryffindor, with Harry back, would have an easy win, the Hufflepuffs were happy enough to be playing today that their exuberance infected the entire school.

Madam Bones was coming to watch (Susan was a Chaser on the team), as were the Weasleys and Sirius. No one could sit still during breakfast; there was much good-natured yelling and ribbing between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, and Ron insisted that everyone on the team eat something. Hermione was arranging some team pictures courtesy of Colin Creevy, and Neville was trying to persuade some of the Ravenclaws to support the Gryffindors.

Just as breakfast was ending, Professor McGonagall came down to the table and asked Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione to join her in the Headmistress's office. At Ron's panicked expression, she said, "Fear not, Mr. Weasley, you will be at the pitch in plenty of time."

That settled the team, and Ron left Katie Bell in charge as they headed to Professor McGonagall's office.

Nearly-Headless Nick waved cheerfully at them as they passed him in the hall. "Good luck today, my friends! I'm off to rally up a suitable ghost cheering section for you. Oh, and congratulations, my dear Weasleys!"

Ron and Ginny exchanged confused glances and would have asked what Nick meant, but he'd gone. Professor McGonagall shook her head as they came up into the Headmistress's office and said, "I would have questioned the wisdom of the timing of this announcement, but it did not seem right to wait until after the game. So I should warn you that this will be a bit of a shock."

They came into the office to find the rest of the Weasleys already present and in various states of emotion, which alarmed Harry, more so the sight of Remus and Sirius also there. "Sirius! What's going on?"

"Mum," Ginny said anxiously, seeing Mrs. Weasley's tearful face, "what's the matter..."

Mrs. Weasley was sobbing, but she was smiling. "Oh...Ginny, oh..."

The twins looked serious, which was more worrisome to Harry than anything, and they gestured for their siblings and Harry and Hermione to turn around. Harry did so, and...

Ginny let out a squeak of shock, and Ron gasped aloud.

_"Percy?"_

Standing, or rather hovering a few inches off the floor, was a ghost. His form was translucent white, like all ghosts', but Harry could make out every detail of him, from the plain wizard's robes to the faint freckles on his ghostly skin, and the horned-rimmed glasses still perched on his nose above a nervous smile.

"Hi," Percy's ghost said, watching his brother and sister carefully.

Neither Harry nor Hermione spoke, but Ron and Ginny seemed lost for words. "You...you...you're..." Ron choked.

"You didn't go on," Ginny finally breathed. "You stayed."

Percy shrugged. "As you see."

"But..." Ron began hesitantly. "You should have...you should've gone on, Perce, I mean...to...whatever comes next..."

Mrs. Weasley had stopped crying and was now cringing, but Percy grinned sheepishly, "I know, that's what Mum said. But I'll say it again: it's too late now. And you don't mean it either."

"What?" Ginny looked offended.

"I mean, don't pretend you're not glad to see me here," Percy told her. He half-walked, half-glided closer to his mother. "And don't tell me what I should have done when you know you're glad I didn't." Mrs. Weasley choked back a sob again, and Percy said firmly, "I spent a lot of my time alive being a prat and didn't get nearly enough time to make up for it. So here I am."

"But...but...when we've all gone..." Ginny protested. "What'll you do then?"

Percy shrugged. "Dunno. Teach History of Magic, maybe. But I'll worry about that in a hundred years or so. Right now, we've got lost time to make up for."

George came slowly to his mother's side, regarding his brother's ghost with unnaturally serious eyes. "You still shouldn't've done it, git. However big a prat you were, you didn't deserve to spend eternity like this. Still," he added when Percy started to protest. "Glad you're back."

With that he grinned, Fred as well, and Percy let out a sigh of relief, and Harry felt the room get a little warmer. Mrs. Weasley burst into tears again, but they were happy tears, and the rest of the Weasleys crowded around Percy to welcome him back. "Does this mean you're going to watch the game?" Ron asked eagerly.

"In the ghosts' cheering section, of course!" Percy replied.

Harry edged over to Remus and Sirius then, and murmured, "I asked Nick how you get to be a ghost after the Department of Mysteries."

"That's quite a sacrifice Percy's made," Remus said softly, putting his hands on Harry's shoulders.

"Is it that bad?" Harry asked.

Sirius shrugged. "Like a lot of choices, it depends on what you make of it. Obviously Percy thought it was worth it." He ruffled Harry's hair as the Weasleys' reunion broke up.

"We've got to get ready for the game," Ginny was saying.

"And we need good seats," said Bill. "Come on, Mum."

"Will we see you afterward, Percy?" Mrs. Weasley begged.

"Of course! Go on. I've got to find Nick."

Professor McGonagall escorted the Weasleys out of the office, telling them how she intended to have Percy installed as one of Hogwarts's official ghosts. "We can always use more competent haunts in this castle."

"I think that's our cue to run along as well, Sirius," Remus said. "We'll see you after the game, Harry."

Harry spontaneously threw his arms around Sirius before going, even though it wasn't as if there were many real limits on seeing his godfather now. Sirius seemed to understand, fortunately, and chuckled as he returned the embrace. "I did promise I'd make it to a game one day, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Harry laughed, pulling back. "I just wasn't sure it would really happen."

"Well, it has," said Ginny, tugging Harry's arm. "Come ON, before Ron starts yelling."

Grinning, Harry ran after her to the staircase, waving over his shoulder at Sirius and Remus as Ron went ahead of them, bellowing demands for ghost support at Percy down the hall.

* * *

 

Gryffindor won, of course. But the Hufflepuffs, by the reckoning of all present, put in an excellent effort, and so there were no hard feelings after the game. Quite the contrary; it was universally agreed that every opportunity for fun should be seized during such times, and the Hufflepuffs were happy enough to put aside any disappointment about their score for the sake of post-game revelry. Hufflepuffs were always generous that way, Harry supposed gratefully.

Harry stole glances at the family spectators' stands whenever he could, to see Sirius sitting with the Weasleys and Remus, all of them cheering wildly throughout the game. Percy hovered in the shaded ghosts' stands with Nearly-Headless Nick and a handful of other ghosts, and all the students seemed to have a marvelous time.

Once the initial shock had worn off, none of the Weasleys could deny how elated they were to have Percy back among them, ghost or not, and there was much gossip amongst the students over what role Hogwarts's newest haunt would take. (There was much hopeful speculation that Percy might indeed take over the job of teaching History of Magic from Professor Binns, which everyone agreed would undoubtedly liven that class up quite a bit.)

But for the moment, Percy was content to be spook-in-training as it were, around Hogwarts, and spent dinner talking with Ron and Ginny once the elder Weasleys and Sirius had left. Harry hadn't seen the two youngest Weasley siblings so happy in a long time. Hermione peppered Percy with questions for advice about sixth-year exams, which he was happy enough to grant.

As end of the year exams drew closer, there was lots of work to do, and tensions from the war did creep back into everyday life, but Harry was not the only one who felt a sense of renewed strength as warm weather took full hold over the grounds again.

Professor Snape and other Order members were beginning to agree on the suspicion that while Harry's skill at Occlumency had improved a great deal this year, the connection to Voldemort by virtue of his scar would never be completely blocked. But Snape still made him practice, which Harry supposed was to be expected.

Final applications for Magical Law Enforcement careers were being prepared. With the help of Remus, Sirius long-distance, and Percy, Harry revised his essays and papers and got ready to turn them in, though it still caused him no small measure of anxiety to wonder what Professor Smythe-Wellington's official recommendation would be.

The night before the final evaluations in Specialized Defense, Harry was in the library with Ron and Hermione, all of them organizing their paperwork. "Do you think there'll be this much filing and organizing in the Auror program?" Ron mused, pulling a face as he sealed up an envelope.

"Probably," Hermione said. "Official jobs like that always have a lot of paperwork. I don't mind it much. I'd be more worried about the fighting."

They were crowded into one of the smaller tables in the library, leaving the larger ones for frantic fifth and seventh-years studying for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Harry sealed up the last of his paperwork and stacked it with a neatness that even Hermione couldn't fault. Then he stared off into space until Ron said, "Harry? What's on your mind, mate?"

"Mm? Nothing, really," Harry said. "I'll just be glad when this year is over. Maybe we'll get a real holiday before the war decides to worm its way in again."

Hermione grimaced. "That would be nice. Lord," she shoved her envelopes away and leaned back in her chair. "I'm starting to..."

"What?" asked Ron.

Closing her eyes, Hermione sighed. "I don't know. I'm just starting to wonder if I'd really like being an Auror." At Harry and Ron's surprised silence, she opened her eyes a crack and explained, "The paperwork and testing doesn't bother me, of course, but...it's the other things. Fighting."

"But that'd be the exciting part," Ron protested, but Hermione shook her head.

"Really, Ronald, maybe to you. I don't know—lots of people can do jobs like that fine, and not to say I won't keep fighting as long as the war goes on, but...after that...when it's over, I..." she suddenly looked very tired, startling both Harry and Ron. "I don't know if I'd want to ever fight anything again. Maybe when the war's over, I could do something else. I hate those battles,"she said, closing her eyes again. "I fight when they happen because I have to—and I'd never leave you two—but I hate them. They're like nightmares. I go to the bathroom when it's all over and get sick. When we heard what had happened at Frimby Park, and saw them carrying those Aurors out, dead and dying, I just...I don't know. I don't know anymore." She smiled at them in a weak attempt to be reassuring. "I guess I ought to ask Professor Smythe-Wellington about that."

"Yeah," Harry finally said. "Maybe that's not a bad idea."

* * *

 

The next morning was Harry's evaluation. He handed in all his application materials, which Smythe-Wellington stacked on her office desk without so much as glancing at them. She motioned for him to sit down opposite her desk and pulled a single piece of parchment from an envelope.

"Here is my evaluation which will be submitted to Magical Law Enforcement regarding your applications, Mr. Potter." Harry took it slowly, and she added, "I would suggest that you read it and take this opportunity to ask any questions that arise."

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked down at the paper.

**_Evaluation of Student Performance and Potential: Magical Law Enforcement_ **

**_Harry James Potter_ **

**_Mr. Potter possesses considerable magical and intellectual ability. He has demonstrated a consistent and exceptional speed at learning and adaptation of knowledge. He has shown an ability to improve performance and adjust to alteration of circumstances._ **

**_It is my opinion that Mr. Potter will have little difficulty qualifying for the Auror program in the areas of magical skill and physical ability. He possesses excellent control and use of magical power, strong reflexes, and adaptive ability._ **

**_Mr. Potter's work ethic and response to pressure is also exceptional. He has demonstrated strong leader qualities in and out of class, as well as the ability to follow instruction and order. Although he requires considerable training in the latter, I expect him to qualify as an applicant to the Auror program._ **

**_In conclusion, I submit this student's name with a high recommendation for admission to the Auror qualification programs. Mr. Potter possesses all the abilities and qualities necessary and desirable in a student at this stage of magical education for a future career in Magical Law Enforcement._ **

When Harry reached the end of the parchment, all he could do was stare at it. He had to read through it twice before the words fully registered.

_High recommendation..._

At last, he looked up in astonishment.

"But I thought you hated me!"

Smythe-Wellington's lips twitched. "I have spent this year attempting to force you to grow into your potential, young man. That requires taking on the role that will one day be assumed by your trainers in the Auror Program—and I assure you, they will be no more inclined than I to coddle anyone when criticism is due. And until you are a senior among Aurors—in approximately fifteen years, if not longer—criticism will always be due."

Harry knew his mouth was hanging open stupidly, but he was having a difficult time making his mind come to terms with what she had said and all that had happened this year. "So...this year...you thought I _could_ be an Auror?"

"I daresay the majority of students in that class can be Aurors, Potter. Provided they possess the work ethic and fortitude, not to mention perseverence. I believe Professor McGonagall warned you a year ago that it is a difficult career path. This class was intended to prepare all interested students for it."

"Wow," Harry murmured. "I guess, I..."

She was smirking at him, just the slightest. "Part of the necessary qualities all Aurors-in-training must possess is to recognize their own abilities in spite of criticism. If you quail in the face of sharp words from your allies, how are we to trust you in the face of an opponent?"

Harry let out his breath in a half-laugh. "Don't listen to the naysayers," he murmured.

"Potter?"

He felt himself smiling involuntarily. "Something Professor Snape told me."

She chuckled dryly. "I'm not surprised."

Feeling another knot of anxiety loosen inside him, he asked, "So does this mean I'll get in?"

Her eyebrow went up. "Provided you apply yourself to achieving the necessary N.E.W.T.s, I imagine you will be accepted. Minister Bones is interested in increasing the ranks of the Aurors—although I sincerely doubt she has any intention of lowering the traditional standards for admission."

"Meaning the Auror trainers will be just as tough as you?" Harry blurted before he could stop himself.

This time, she laughed outright, although he detected a knowing slyness to it that was all the warning he needed about what he'd be facing in the Auror training. "They had bloody well better be."

* * *

 

"So, Mr. Potter, I understand Professor Smythe-Wellington gave you full marks and a high recommendation for Magical Law Enforcement," said Professor McGonagall later that day in her office.

Harry nodded, feeling vaguely ashamed of himself. "I guess it never occurred to me that someone would have a reason for being so...so..."

"Difficult?" Professor McGonagall supplied, with a faint smirk. When Harry blushed, she remarked, "You will find, Potter, that half the challenge of getting a thorough education is the necessity of dealing with difficult people. The world is full of them, and we, your teachers, are charged with preparing you for more than intellectual tests."

"You'd think I'd have realized that," Harry said sheepishly, and she chuckled. He noticed it wasn't unlike the way Professor Smythe-Wellington chuckled.

"Few students do realize it right away. I asked her to teach that class in the hope that she would enlighten a few of you."

"YOU asked her to teach here?" Harry exclaimed. He had assumed (as he'd assumed a lot of things) that Smythe-Wellington was another ill-considered hire by Dumbledore. The thought gave him a pang.

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "I did indeed. I broached the subject to her over a year ago—the very evening after we first discussed your interest in the Auror program, in fact." She watched Harry's face as he put it all together, and gave just the faintest of smiles. A distinctly smug smile. "I did assure you then, did I not, that I would assist you in becoming an Auror if it was the last thing I did?" Harry nodded weakly, and she went on, "I do not make such promises lightly, Mr. Potter. I knew that you would need a competent teacher this year, and immediately set about persuading Priscilla Smythe-Wellington to take up the task. I had no doubt that under her charge, you would learn what was needed to qualify."

Shaking his head, Harry mused, "Everyone's always making plans without telling me about them."

"Such is life, Mr. Potter. I strongly advise you to get used to it." Harry was startled to see that the stern headmistress seemed to be holding back a laugh.

Glancing around the office, he marveled inwardly at how the place felt so much like HER office now, even though it had always seemed like Dumbledore belonged here. But unlike with Umbridge, the office had let Professor McGonagall in. "Professor, I've been wondering…" he said cautiously, gazing at the portraits.

She nodded knowingly, "To make a proper wizarding portrait takes some time. I expect we will see it here amongst the other former Headmasters within the year."

Harry sighed and smiled sheepishly. "I'm…glad."

Professor McGonagall waved dismissively. "It is not a weakness to desire the presence of those who have been lost, Potter. Percy Weasley understood that more than any of us gave him credit for in the hour of his death." She nodded to the wizard photographs adorning her desk, under the watchful eyes of Fawkes.

Harry recognized Murdo McGonagall, but none of the others. Most of them he suspected were Professor McGonagall's family members, but his eyes were drawn to one of a much younger wizard, barely older than Harry's parents had been when they died. He looked a little bit like the McGonagalls, but…

"Duncan."

Embarrassed at having been caught staring, Harry glanced at Professor McGonagall and said, "Sorry?"

She nodded to the photograph. "That was Duncan. My son." At Harry's startled face, she explained, "He was an Auror. He was killed in the first war."

"Oh." Harry looked at the wizard, young and strong with black hair like his mother's and a rather mischievous grin that reminded him of Sirius, and thought of his parents, of Percy, of Mrs. Weasley, and suddenly felt incredibly sad.

"Be grateful for the opportunities you are given in life, Harry. And as both I and the rest of your professors have advised, do not allow others to discourage you from pursuing your desires. Time for such things is always short."

* * *

 

"You _decided not to apply?_ " Ron was stunned, and Harry had to admit he was shocked himself, when Hermione told them she wasn't going to be an Auror.

"I talked it over with Professor Smythe-Wellington for a long time," she said, looking faintly sad, but much less worried and tense than she'd looked the night before. "She said I have a lot of skill, but...I think she knew I wouldn't be a very good Auror. My heart may be on our side, but it's just not in...fighting, the ways yours are."

Harry dished himself another helping of treacle tart and asked, "So what are you going to do?"

"Dunno yet," Hermione said, accepting a bowl of ice cream from Ginny as all their friends listened curiously. "The Magical Law Enforcement applications were the earliest ones that have to go in; I've still got a little time."

"Maybe you could be a Healer," Ginny suggested. "That needs a lot of book smarts, and you'd be, you know, fixing things instead of breaking them—no offense," she added to Harry and Ron.

Ron snorted. "None taken," and Harry echoed it, but Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"I thought about that, but seeing all those wounded wizards would probably still make me miserable." She sighed. "I guess I just don't have as much Gryffindor courage as you lot." She wistfully smiled at Harry and Ron.

"Don't say that!" Neville protested. "You faced down Cornelius Fudge more than once, got Mr. McGonagall to defend Harry and Mr. Black, and told off reporters more times than I can count! You're braver than a lot of us!"

"Good point," Ginny agreed.

"Use what talents you possess," said Luna Lovegood in a singsong voice, sitting down on the side of the bench next to Neville. "The woods would be very silent if no birds sang except those who sang best."

"Maybe you could be a barrister like Mr. McGonagall," suggested Ron.

"Hmm," Hermione mused. "That's a possibility, I suppose."

Ron shook his head. "It's funny; I always thought you would know what you wanted to do before any of us. You always know so much."

Hermione cuffed him. "Just because I come to class PREPARED, Ronald, does not mean I have all the answers in life."

"Then how come you always act like you do," Ron whispered playfully, earning himself another cuff.

"There's lots of possibilities," said Harry. "And like you say, you've got plenty of time."

"But you still applied, right, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. She gave me a better evaluation than I expected," Harry said, grinning to himself.

Ron nodded vigorously. "Right about that one, mate. I thought for sure she'd say I had no chance, but she actually said I was well-qualified. She says I'd have a good chance of getting in if I get decent N.E.W.T.s."

"I decided not to apply either," said Neville. "Nothing in Magical Law Enforcement really catches me the way it does you and Ron, although...I did decide to try to qualify for an independent N.E.W.T. I want to try for Healer training."

"So," Hermione said thoughtfully, counting off on her fingers, "you'd need N.E.W.T.s in Herbology, Charms, Transfiguration, and..."

"Potions!" Ginny gasped.

Ron let out a whoop of delight and clapped Neville on the back. "Now THAT is Gryffindor courage for you!"

"I'm going to help him," Luna announced. "He could get an Outstanding if he believes in himself."

Ron looked doubtful, but Hermione nodded firmly. "Right you are, Luna. Right you are."

"How are your O.W.L.s coming?" Harry asked Ginny, who was looking distinctly the worse for wear from all the studying.

"One more tomorrow," she sighed. "Then we're done, thank heavens. I can't wait to go home."

"Me either," Harry said.

"Bet this is the first time you've ever looked forward to the summer, eh, Harry?" Ron laughed.

"Definitely," Harry said. "I never thought I'd look forward to meeting the train home!"

"Sirius'll be waiting," Hermione said happily, giving Harry a one-armed hug. "At King's Cross, just like a normal parent. And Remus will meet us at headquarters the day after."

Harry closed his eyes, feeling a giddy anticipation inside that was downright alien to him. "I never thought I'd...I'd...have something like this." He felt blood rush to his face, but his friends grinned at him.

"You deserve it," Ginny said firmly. "Everyone deserves that. Someone to come home to."

That triggered something in Harry's mind, and his face fell. His friends all dropped their smiles as well. "What's the matter, mate?" Ron asked, alarmed.

"I...just thinking," he murmured. "There's something...something I really ought to do."

* * *

 

So much had happened this year that there were things Harry had forgotten about. Things he couldn't afford to think about if he wanted to stay safe and sane, but he supposed he had to face them down if he wanted to move on with life. And it didn't seem right otherwise.

He went to see Professor McGonagall right after dinner that night, and the next day, she sent him via Portkey with Tonks as an escort to a little house in Derbyshire. It was on a quiet street in a quiet neighborhood, perfectly normal and unassuming, with nothing at all about it to suggest anything out of the ordinary.

They arrived in the foyer, and were greeted by Petunia Dursley.

Harry wasn't quite sure what to expect. He hadn't seen her in almost a year, since that horrible night Uncle Vernon had died, and in all honesty he hadn't thought about her and Dudley much as the events of the year unfolded. There was no blood magic remaining to require him to live with her ever again, or even talk to her if he didn't want to, but...it felt wrong not to make certain that she and his cousin were safe.

He doubted he would find them really okay.

"I wondered if you'd ever turn up," she said by way of greeting.

She'd obviously been expecting him. Professor McGonagall had probably sent word. Harry found that she looked mostly the same, although very subdued and even thinner than before. He knew from the Order that this was a safehouse, warded as strongly as possible, to keep his aunt and cousin safe for the remainder of the war.

He knew they'd be safer if he, Harry, never came back again.

"I just wanted to make sure you're all right."

"All right." She laughed without humor. Harry could see Dudley in the kitchen, peering out at them. Dudley was thinner too, and looked like he hadn't been practicing his boxing. He made no move to come any closer to his visiting cousin, and Harry made no attempt to speak to him. Aunt Petunia went on, "We've been hiding out here for ten months, wondering if one of those magical monsters would come hunt us down, and you ask if we're all right. We barely had a chance to lay my husband to rest—oh, push off," she said, waving away Harry's attempt to muster his regrets. "I know, I know, you didn't choose it, it's not your fault. That doesn't mean I want any more of your kind in here than absolutely necessary to keep us alive. Are you necessary to keep us alive?"

Harry couldn't deny that her coldness stung, just a little, but at least it didn't surprise him. It was both more and less than he'd expected, given her past treatment of him. "No, I'm not. I just thought it was right to make sure you were safe."

Aunt Petunia shrugged. "I suppose if your lot says we're safe. Not that people like Dudley and me know what's 'safe' by your standards."

"Well..." Harry swallowed. "I'm glad." It seemed like the right sort of thing to say, even if he couldn't muster much feeling behind it. "And..." this was easier to say sincerely, "I really did try to save Uncle Vernon. I really was sorry."

She waved him off again. "I know. Not as sorry as we were, though."

"Maybe if he'd cared a little more, I would have too."

Bloody hell, he hadn't meant to say that. He'd sworn to himself he wouldn't come here just to yell at her.

But there it was, and to his surprise, Aunt Petunia wasn't the least bit shocked or even angry. "We didn't ask for this either, you know. What did you want us to feel? Glad to have you after the chaos your lot had already brought into my life?"

"No," Harry muttered, wishing he'd never come. "I don't know."

Aunt Petunia stared out the window. "Neither do I. In any case, what's done is done. I know the protections are gone, so there's no reason for you to stay."

"I'm not staying," he told her. "My godfather was found innocent at his trial, and he's my guardian now. I'm going to live with him."

She snorted. "I'm very happy for you."

Harry concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths and not letting the emotions churning inside him take control. "Anyway, you'll be glad to hear I probably won't ever see you again." She didn't deny it. "I just thought I ought to make sure you were okay. Professor McGonagall—my Headmistress—says that when the war's over, you'll be safe to get away from the wizarding world for good."

Aunt Petunia shrugged. "They've respected our wishes for the most part, I suppose. No freakish technology in the house. I still cook like a normal person for my normal son, and the neighbors assume he has a private tutor."

Harry didn't respond to that. "Well. You'll be fine, then. There was...some paperwork one of my professors sent about my guardian..."

"It's signed. If he wants to adopt you, he's free to do it. I made sure of that."

"Thanks," he said wearily. "Well, I'll be going then." _I won't thank you for taking care of me for the past fifteen years..._ "I guess...thanks for keeping me alive. And I'm sorry I couldn't..."

Aunt Petunia turned back toward the sitting room. "I know, I know. Just end this bloody war soon so my son and I can get on with our lives."

"We'll end the war so a lot of people can get on with our lives," Harry told her curtly. "Goodbye, then. And good luck."

Still not looking at him as Tonks silently handed him the portkey, Aunt Petunia said quietly, "I wish they'd never brought you to us."

Harry paused, and waited until she turned around. "Believe me: so do I." Then he tightened his fist around the portkey, and let himself be swept away from Petunia and Dudley Dursley in a whirl of wind and color.

* * *

 

"I forbid you from feeling guilty," Hermione told him sharply that night. "You gave them more than they deserved just by checking up on them. You have a right to be happy, Harry."

"She's right," said Ron. "You're finally done with them, mate. Don't let them hang over your head and ruin going home to a real family for the first time!"

"I know," Harry said, stretching his legs across the common room sofa. He knew he ought to be happy about being finally well shut of the Dursleys, but a strange, dark feeling still hung over him. Vague regrets and hurts that just wouldn't go away and leave him alone.

Ginny came and sat down next to him. "They were horrible to you. None of what happened was your fault. They should've been more understanding. Maybe you wouldn't have joined this world if they'd made you welcome in that one."

Watching the fire crackle thoughtfully, Harry mused, "Yeah. I was thinking the same thing. If they'd loved me...I might not have come to Hogwarts if they'd asked me not to." He thought of his life the summer before he turned eleven, and... "I could've been like Dudley."

And then he started to laugh. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny quickly joined him. "Did you know Malfoy's staying here this summer?" asked Ron.

Harry sat up, startled. "What?"

Ginny nodded. "That's what I heard too. He's got no home to go to, and there's no one who can ward him to keep him safe, so Snape's keeping him here."

 _No one ever did that for me!_ Harry was resentful in spite of himself, but Ginny patted his knee. "He's really got nowhere to go. Even less than the Dursleys."

"True," Harry mused.

"Wonder if he's going to stay with Snape," said Neville, who had been playing Exploding Snap with Seamus at one of the tables.

"Ugh! Can you imagine? That'd be a holiday in hell!" said Dean Thomas.

"Who knows, Snape likes Malfoy," said Ron. "It probably won't be that bad. Still, I'll bet it's weird for him watching all of us get on the train tomorrow."

Harry shook his head, watching Bastet and Crookshanks chasing a stray chess piece across the floor. "To think my cousin thinks magic alone is weird. I think weird is the kind of stuff we have to deal with from people, wizard or Muggle."

"Right about that, mate," said Ron.

* * *

 

Harry still had Occlumency lessons with Snape. "You showed yourself capable of at least resisting him; that alone is reason to continue," the Potions Master told him.

"I know," Harry sighed. "It's just frustrating, the thought that I can never completely keep him out."

"Few real victories are complete victories, Potter," Snape told him, attacking his mind and slowly increasing the pressure.

Gritting his teeth, Harry repelled it after a few minutes, then they stopped to catch their breath. "Yeah, I guess not. Still…"

Snape eyed him. "I have refrained until now from asking you what you saw in his mind."

Harry blinked. "In his…oh, the battle." He shook his head. "Sorry, if you'd asked, I wouldn't care—I don't remember much. My head and my mind hurt so bad by then nothing made sense. I just…sort of…grabbed at him and held on. Just trying to make him pay attention to me." It made him shudder, remembering. "It hurt."

With a distracted nod, Snape looked away from him. "I was uncertain. In any case, had you not already been wounded, you might have found yourself more closely matched to him as a Legilimens. I have never attempted to train you strongly in that skill, yet you improvised it under extremely difficult circumstances."

"What does that mean?"

Snape turned to him. "It leads me to believe that your scar, the magic that connects you, will never be completely blocked. This means you cannot completely repel him…but nor can he successfully repel you. It was your own mind that was the cause of your visions, just as much as his."

Slowly, Harry went to one of the chairs facing Snape's desk and sat down. "So…our minds…they're just…stuck this way? Together?"

"You have made considerable progress at shielding yourself, and you have a greater awareness of what thoughts are yours and what are not," Snape told him. "It is hardly a hopeless situation."

Harry leaned sideways in the chair, digesting this. "I don't really remember what I was thinking before, it was just…instinct."

Snape snorted. "I would not go that far. Battle instinct leads many men to take action they normally would consider mad."

"Like Malfoy hexing Voldemort?" Harry asked slyly. Snape glared, but did not deny it. "I guess I ought to thank him for that."

"You subsequently saved his life and mine; it is unnecessary." Snape motioned him to his feet, and they resumed.

Harry grinned. "I guess I had a few back debts where you were concerned, but Malfoy and I are even."

Snape waited until they went through another round of mental attacking and parrying to answer. "Life debts are not Quidditch scores, Potter."

"Then why…" Harry caught himself and blushed, but Snape figured out what he'd been about to say anyway.

"The magic of a wizard's debt comes from honor, not a count of actions and reactions. Had you attempted to save Malfoy in order to settle your debt, rather than simply because taking action was the correct thing to do, you would still find yourself indebted to him. As would be the case vice versa—only a selfless act can trigger or settle a wizard's debt."

Harry stared at him for several minutes as something clicked in his mind. _So that was why he saved my life over and over again, and kept looking out for me even though he hated me. The debt to my father never stopped…_

"You're transparent as glass, Potter," Snape said scornfully.

"Sorry," Harry said, thinking too hard to care. He sat down again, rubbing his forehead. "Then how could Pettigrew keep attacking me? I saved his life in the Shrieking Shack a long time ago."

"Debt magic is not as powerful as sacrificial or love magic. It cannot prevent anyone from acting. Pettigrew has no doubt been very aware that what he has done to you is contrary to every law of decency. More so now that he's…" Snape broke off, and Harry looked at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," Snape began, but Harry stood up, and he scowled.

 _Obviously I'm not the only transparent one around here._ "What else happened to Pettigrew? He disappeared when Voldemort showed up at the battle."

Snape shook his head. "He was there; he merely cowered for the rest of it." He glanced at Harry and sighed. "What happened between you and the Dark Lord disturbed him. I rather doubt you will see much more of him."

"Why, my Legilimency?"

"No. Before that, immediately after the Dark Lord's arrival, Pettigrew attempted to kill you." Harry nodded. His neck had been bruised for days. "He was stopped by the shades of Storgé."

Harry sat back down again. Hard. "That's what you meant when you asked me…"

"What you saw, yes. From where I stood, it was quite a shock to Pettigrew to find himself face to face with his victims. It was the first time I had seen those shades express rage." Snape visibly pulled himself back to the present, and went on, "Pettigrew fled from you then and had several openings afterward, but did not use them."

Harry wasn't really listening. "The spell…the one Voldemort did…something about spirits…"

"A variant of a ghost banishing spell, no doubt adapted to deal with the Pillar of Storgé's imprints. He could not risk attacking you as long as that magic still surrounded you."

"They're gone…" Harry whispered, shaken. "They're gone, aren't they? That's how he hurt me so much."

"It appears so. They vanished after the spell, and I did not see them again," Snape said quietly.

_I never saw them. Never. Now I never will. Everyone sees them but me._

"They were shadows, Potter. Not real."

Harry swallowed hard against his churning insides. "I…I know…" he murmured. "I know."

* * *

 

After the lesson, Harry wandered the halls for quite awhile, deep in thought. Going back to see Aunt Petunia had left him with a vague awareness of having been cheated out of something important, and the knowledge of what had happened on the battlefield had only added to it.

_I'm going to live with my godfather. I should be happy._

He trudged around for a little longer, then found his way to a bathroom to wash his face, hoping to clear the cobwebs out of his mind.

_We got out of the battle alive. Sirius is free._

_I made Voldemort bleed._

_They weren't real. He didn't kill them. Not this time anyway._

_He didn't take anything I hadn't already lost._

But Harry had Legilimized him, long enough to save Snape and Malfoy. Pettigrew was exposed, and Sirius was free.

He had a home again.

Harry stared into the mirror at his scar.

_The connection can never be completely blocked._

_"You cannot completely repel him…nor can he successfully repel you…"_

Voldemort had looked almost surprised. He remembered that. In the split second after shouting his name, Harry had looked straight into those nasty red eyes and _pushed…_

_"Real victories are seldom complete victories."_

Harry stared at his scar.

Then, he stared _into_ his scar. Through it.

He reached out, into the reflection of his green eyes and his lightning bolt scar until…

They were two. And he could see surprise reflected in those green eyes that were not entirely his anymore.

Moving took an effort, as if his body weren't entirely his, but he looked into the reflection and whispered,

"You didn't think I could do it, did you? You were as surprised as I was."

Shock gave way to anger… _how dare he…_

Another deep breath. He stared hard into his own eyes.

"So you learned the prophecy. But it won't be as easy as you think. I've learned a few things too."

Furious denials nearly burst from his lips, thoughts that weren't his…he concentrated. On keeping his mind his own, but holding onto the eyes looking out through his.

And to his mild surprise, they stayed. Possibly curious to know what he wanted to say.

"I just want you to know what I know: I can't keep you out, but you can't keep me out either. I know we're connected now, and one day we're going to fight. And either will die at the hand of the other."

There was an alien look in his eyes, one he'd never seen before, but it wasn't Voldemort. Voldemort wasn't in control here.

It was him. Harry. Himself. This was what he looked like standing face to face with Voldemort.

"I'm ready for you."

* * *

 

That same night, a deeply-disturbed Minerva McGonagall summoned the Order of the Phoenix's elder members to Grimmauld Place. She brought Albus Dumbledore's Pensieve with her.

"What's the emergency, Minerva?" asked Sirius in alarm. "Is it Harry?"

"No, he's fine," she assured him. "I would not call this an emergency, although I thought it wise to acquaint all of you with it as soon as possible. It concerns a prophecy that was given in my presence today."

Several Order members hissed, and Severus Snape muttered, "More bloody prophecies..."

"Sybill again?" asked Remus.

Minerva shook her head. "No. And I must commend you, Severus, that a certain theory of yours from a few months ago has proven extremely correct." At Snape's baffled expression, she placed the Pensieve on the table and tapped it once with her wand.

The figure of Hermione Granger rose to its surface.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed someone, but the others hissed for silence.

The young witch, her face trancelike and unaware, spoke in a low, unnatural voice:

_ON THE THIRD NIGHT OF THE THIRD MONTH, THE FALLEN SHALL NUMBER THREE. BLOOD SHALL BE SPILT OF THE INNOCENT AS WELL AS THE GUILTY AND HERALD THE END OF THE STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE DARK AND THE LIGHT...TWO SHALL DIE DEFIANT...ONE SHALL DIE REPENTANT...TWO SHALL DIE TRAITORS...TWO SHALL DIE FREED...ON THE THIRD NIGHT OF THE THIRD MONTH, THE FALLEN SHALL NUMBER THREE..._

The Order of the Phoenix was stunned and silent, there in the basement kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, for a very long time.

There was really nothing to be said. Nothing to be done.

As Albus Dumbledore was always so fond of saying, there is no denying what must be.

* * *

 

Harry was practically skipping as he hauled his trunk along in front of his friends to the Hogwarts Express.

"I'm going hooome, I'm going hooome!"

Ginny and Ron were doubled over with laughter, Hermione and Neville were ribbing him playfully, and Hagrid was grinning at them. "Never mind that lot, Harry! You enjoy this trip! Yeh always look so sad when we're loadin' up the train!"

"Sirius is waiting at King's Cross," Ron told Hagrid. "He can hardly wait to get there."

Hagrid slapped Harry on the back, nearly knocking him over his trunk, but caught him and neatly stowed the heavy thing in the baggage compartment. "You lot have yerselves a fine summer. I'll probably be seein' yeh on and off, with the you-know-what, but I'm glad yeh'll be taken care of this summer, for once."

"We'll take care of him," Ginny promised, giving Harry a rather powerful squeeze from behind, making him grunt in protest.

"Best be loadin' yerselves up. Yer heading off soon," Hagrid advised them, moving to assist some first-years with their luggage.

As they started onto the train, Ron caught Harry's arm. "Psst! Look!"

Draco Malfoy, still in his school robes, was standing a little away from the hustle and bustle of the platform, watching the students getting ready to leave. Harry couldn't read what the Slytherin boy was thinking, but couldn't help wondering what it was like—or rather, if having to stay at Hogwarts to avoid being murdered by your own family was anything like going back to a family that hated magic. It was a rather uncomfortable thought, comparing his feelings to Malfoy's.

Professor Snape was standing behind Draco, keeping a wary eye on the students, although the Aurors watching over the train made everyone feel reasonably secure. Harry noticed Blaise Zabini going cautiously over to Malfoy, both their faces carefully neutral. Harry was close enough to hear what they said.

"So you're staying here, then?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Okay," said Zabini. "I guess I'll see you next year."

"Yeah."

With a wary eye on Snape, Zabini shrugged. "Bye, then." And he left his Housemate standing on the platform.

_Blimey, I'm glad the Sorting Hat didn't put me in Slytherin._

As the last of the students hurried aboard the train, Draco glanced at Professor Snape. "What am I going to do this summer, anyway?"

Snape said calmly, "I'll be putting you to work, of course." Draco looked startled, but at Snape's challenging gaze, quickly schooled his expression into a calm nod. "Come. Let's return to the castle."

As they walked off, Harry let Ron and the others urge him into a compartment, and he opened the window and stuck his head out, eager to enjoy every last second of this departure. Hagrid finished checking to make sure all the doors were closed and waved at him.

"Look after yerself, Harry! Good luck to yeh!"

"Thanks! Bye, Hagrid!"

The train's whistle blew, and Harry remained leaning out of the window as they began moving down the track, waving for all he was worth.


	45. Guess Who's Coming To Dinner

Arriving at King's Cross was everything Harry had hoped for. Even the mob of reporters crowding near the gateway into the Muggle station couldn't dampen Harry's elation at seeing Sirius standing there with the Weasleys, waiting as Harry and his friends unloaded their luggage.

"At last, we were starting to worry!" cried Mrs. Weasley. She kissed Harry on the cheek and motioned at them to get their trunks. "Let's get out of here!"

Sirius was quiet as he helped Harry with his luggage. Harry thought he looked well, much better than when he'd seen him at Grimmauld Place two summers ago. But why shouldn't he be? He could come to King's Cross as a human being now and meet Harry as a guardian should, instead of hiding and sneaking around.

 _We'll never have to hide again,_ he thought fiercely. _Sirius can see me anytime he wants, and there's nothing anyone can do!_

Not the Ministry, anyway.

Apparently, Sirius was of the same mind. He kept a firm hand on Harry's shoulder as they walked out of the station to the Weasleys' waiting cars, sent courtesy of the Ministry on the orders of Minister Bones. It wasn't until they were driving on through London that Sirius spoke up. "Are you glad to be heading somewhere different this summer?"

Ron laughed out loud. "Are you kidding? He was singing when we got on the train!"

"Singing?" demanded one of the twins.

Harry shrugged sheepishly. "I was happy."

Sirius looked delighted and relaxed much more, slinging a casual arm around Harry's shoulders. "Sorry it's nothing better than the old Black house, but it's the best we could do."

"I don't care," Harry said firmly. "So long as you're there."

"Blimey, someone gag me!" Fred exclaimed.

Harry and Sirius both blushed.

"And as I'm a Prewett by blood, we're going to feed you this summer, Harry Potter!" Mrs. Weasley swore that evening during dinner. "You too, Sirius Black; both of you need fattening up."

Sirius laughed, but half-bowed to her. "As you will, Madam."

"You might extend that to include Remus too, when he comes," Tonks suggested. "That one doesn't eat enough either."

Mrs. Weasley paused from foisting another helping of beef stew on Harry to smile slyly at Tonks. "I have quite enough on my hands, dear, so any responsibility for feeding Remus Lupin must fall to you."

"True," Tonks said hastily. "I suppose the task of feeding all three of them would be too much for anyone."

"We'll eat, we'll eat!" Harry exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender. (Not that he ever ate sparingly of Mrs. Weasley's cooking.)

Sirius just laughed harder.

* * *

 

Remus arrived late the next day, and Harry couldn't remember a time when he'd felt so content. He spent his days practicing defensive spells with his friends, under the tutelage of Remus, Sirius, and sometimes Tonks or Moody. Sirius cut his hair short again—well, shorter than it'd been before, anyway—and Remus looked far less haggard lately. And the Weasleys were happy again, for which Harry was very grateful. They deserved to be happy, in his mind, happier than anyone else in the world. He was very happy for Ron. Their family was whole again; ghost or not, Percy had returned. All the Weasleys were together again.

The war went on, of course. The Order held meetings in the basement kitchen just like always, but they let Harry and his friends sit in now, even if Harry wasn't allowed to do more than that. _"Don't ruffle your feathers at us,"_ Tonks told him once. "Most of what the Order does from day to day is the same as Auror duties: guarding, investigating, responding to reports. Leave it to the people trained to do it. We're not risking you or anybody else underage unless we absolutely have to."

Harry couldn't really argue with that, but didn't resent it as much as he once had. Contrary to what Snape had always said, Harry didn't like to go around sticking his nose in everything—he just wanted to know what was going on. Now at last they were letting him, so he couldn't complain.

Not that much, anyway.

About two weeks after school ended, the Order put together a group of volunteers to travel to America to work with their Aurors. Professor Snape was among them. No one seemed to think the mission was anything dangerous (or at least not any more dangerous than usual), but they would be gone for several days, and Harry was glad neither Sirius nor Remus was going.

The morning before they were scheduled to leave, Mrs. Weasley told them all at breakfast, "We have another guest coming to stay until the team gets back, I've heard."

That, in itself, was nothing new; Order members came and went, sometimes staying the night and sometimes not, or leaving their family members at Headquarters for a day or two. None of the Order members had children near their age, so they all assumed it was someone's wife or husband.

And so, when Professor Snape's voice drifted in from the parlor, none of them thought anything of it. Until they heard Mrs. Weasley's welcoming tone followed by a familiar – and definitely sullen – voice that would never have been expected at Headquarters.

"How long am I going to have to stay here?"

"Until I return next week." And then... "There is no other option. You cannot remain at Hogwarts alone."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood where they were, in the hall with Ginny and the twins, all of them dumbfounded, unable to believe what they were hearing.

But when Professor Snape came into the hall with Draco Malfoy in tow, there was no denying it. Still, Malfoy was as shocked as they were, and the look he shot Snape, told them Snape hadn't warned him.

Gryffindors stared and Slytherins stared back. Finally, Malfoy growled, "You've _got_ to be kidding."

"While I am absent, you must be in a safe house," Snape told him. Harry noticed, with a sense of irony, that Snape looked almost apologetic.

"With them?" Malfoy cried.

"It won't be so bad, dear," Mrs. Weasley said gently. Malfoy looked scornful.

"We're not exactly thrilled ourselves," Ron pointed out. His mother glared at him.

"Shush, Ron. Your room is upstairs, dear. This way."

Malfoy slowly followed her, but cast a look over his shoulder at Snape that startled Harry, for reasons he couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was because Harry had never seen Draco Malfoy look so plaintive before. But none of his friends seemed to have noticed.

Snape went to the Order meeting, and Harry and the others took refuge in the library. "I can't bloody believe we have to put up with Malfoy here at Headquarters," Ron fumed.

"Lovely way to ruin a holiday," grumbled one of the twins.

"I gather he's no happier about it than you," said Percy's ghost, dropping through the ceiling.

"My heart bleeds," said Ginny, scowling.

"Oh really, you lot, at least try to be understanding," Hermione said. "He's on our side now."

"Pffft. Yeah, right," Fred snorted.

"Listen," she insisted. "I don't like him any more than you, but if he thinks he isn't welcome on our side, he might just go back to his father's side." At the other's doubtful looks, she said, "I'm not saying be his best friend, just don't be nasty."

Ron looked at Harry and shrugged.

* * *

 

There was no sign of Malfoy at lunch, for which most of them were immensely grateful. Snape also disappeared upstairs. Harry couldn't help wondering what they were talking about. When Snape finally did come down several hours later to leave with the team, his face was unreadable. Malfoy wasn't with him. Snape looked at Harry several times as the team got ready to go, but never spoke, not even in response to Ginny's quiet "Good luck." Then, in a flash of Floo fire, the team was gone, and Harry and his friends were keenly aware of Draco Malfoy's presence in the house, like an especially malevolent haunt

But Harry couldn't help wonderi ng what it was like for Malfoy, alone in a house full of people who despised him.

No, Harry had to admit, he didn't have to wonder. He knew. All too well.

Mrs. Weasley told them Malfoy was on their floor at the end of the hall, but none of them saw any sign of him even though Hermione had gone to tell him dinner was at seven. "What did he say?" Ginny asked her.

"He never opened the door," Hermione said, in a tone that she often used on Harry and Ron when she was trying to be patient with them. "I suppose someone should check and see if he's all right."

"Phineas Nigellus's portrait is in his room; he'd have told us if anything was wrong," said Mr. Weasley. "I'll have Percy look in on him after dinner." Mr. Weasley, unlike his wife, was ambivalent about Malfoy's presence. Among the Order, he'd had to work with Lucius Malfoy, after all, and Harry doubted he had any love lost for any of that family. But to his credit, he was following Mrs. Weasley's lead as far as having Draco as a guest was concerned.

"Poor boy's probably just upset," said Mrs. Weasley gently. "Let him be for now. And I agree with Hermione, you lot, be civil to him! He's our guest while Professor Snape is away, and however you feel about the boy in school, we owe it to Severus."

Ron sighed, and pulled a face. "Guess you can't really argue with that. Owe one git and you have to put up with other gits."

"Ron…" groaned Hermione, but he gave her an innocent smile, and she just shook her head. "You're hopeless."

"I could have told you that," said Ginny, laughing.

"Me, too," Harry added. Mrs. Weasley grinned fondly at them.

Sirius came in from whatever mission he'd been out on, and sat down next to Harry, as Remus passed over the roast beef. "What's new and exciting?"

Remus winked at Harry, and said, "We have a visitor."

"Oh, someone new?" Sirius asked, curiously.

Ron snorted. "That's the understatement of the year, Sirius." Sirius blinked in confusion, but Mrs. Weasley shook her head.

"While Severus is in the States, Draco Malfoy is here at Headquarters."

Sirius sat motionless with a roll halfway to his mouth. "You have _got_ to be kidding."

"Funny, that's what he said," remarked Ginny, but she was smirking. "At least the little git's had the decency to stay in his room."

Sirius shook his head "Draco bloody Malfoy. For the first timein my life, I feel that my house has been defiled." They all laughed uproariously-except Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, who looked disapproving.

"I bet your mum likes him," said Ginny.

"Considering how she doted on his mother and aunt – Bella, that is – she'd probably adore him." Sirius pulled a face. "With any luck, he'll have the sense to keep his Malfoy claws to himself, and not contaminate your space too often."

Although most of the Weasleys liked his statement, Harry suddenly felt cold inside.

* * *

 

They saw nothing of Malfoy that evening, and the next morning, watched Hermione try to bring a plate of food to him. "Malfoy?" (Knock, knock, knock) "Malfoy, there's some breakfast here for you. If you're not going to come downstairs, at least take this." (Knock, knock, knock)

"Give it up. He's not going to answer," said Ron.

"Maybe he'll starve," said one of the twins. "We can only hope."

But Hermione, as always, wouldn't be discouraged, and kept on knocking and calling, until the door flew open. Everyone jumped. Harry only saw a flash of movement, before the tray went flying out of Hermione's hands, and she let out a yelp of protest.

"Go away!" was all Malfoy snapped at her before slamming the door again.

Hermione rocked back on her heels and stared at the door for a few moments, then huffed and turned away. "Fine! If he wants to hide and starve, who am I to stop him."

"That's the spirit," laughed Fred.

Remus came upstairs at that point. "What was all that about?" He took in the spilled food and Hermione's irked expression, and smiled. "Ah. Why don't you all run along. I'll handle this."

Shrugging, Ron nodded and tugged at Hermione's elbow. "C'mon. Let Remus deal with him." She let herself be drawn away, and they went down to breakfast.

What Remus said (or did) to Malfoy, Harry never found out, but all he or any of the others knew was that Malfoy finally showed up in the dining room that morning. "Well, look who exists after all," said Fred, in mock surprise.

Malfoy said nothing, scowling sullenly at the table as he ate, but Remus shot the twins a warning look and they settled down. Malfoy didn't meet anyone's eyes all morning, except when Remus suggested that he join the rest of them in the parlor for defense practice. Malfoy looked horrified, and even Sirius and the others glared at Remus.

But whatever Remus had done to get Malfoy out of his room was working. He simply nodded a yes, and followed them to the parlor. He never said a word unless Remus spoke to him, but he obeyed the instructions, and didn't even complain when Remus partnered him with Harry. What was strange was that he didn't even take the opportunity to hex Harry for all he was worth.

"What's the matter? Afraid to curse anyone now that your Dad can't pull strings to get you off," Ron sneered.

Malfoy glared at him. "And give you all the excuse to throw me in Azkaban!"

Harry stared, but Hermione shoved Ron, and Malfoy retreated upstairs again as soon as practice broke up. "He's scared." Ginny voiced what they were all thinking. Ron and the twins immediately broke up laughing, but Harry didn't find it nearly so funny.

* * *

 

Aside from dinner, none of them saw Malfoy again all day. The younger Weasleys were obviously gleeful over his hermit-like behaviour, and Harry supposed he really couldn't blame them. Their family had suffered too much at Malfoy and his father's hands.

But no matter how Harry tried, and he did try, he found that he could not laugh at Malfoy, hiding in his room, hated by and hating everyone in the house. Harry couldn't laugh at that, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself Malfoy deserved it.

When strange noises woke him late that night, he at first didn't know what it was. That was why he got up and went into the hallway. Once he opened the door, he realized the plaintive cries were coming from down the hall. Drawn by some impulse he didn't understand, he walked slowly to the door and opened it.

Malfoy was tossing in his sleep, whimpering and calling out. "Dad! Dad, no, I can't, please don't make me-no! No, please don't give me to him, no, help me, please, help me…"

"Malfoy! Malfoy, wake up," Harry heard himself hiss.

The Slytherin boy woke with a start, sitting up and blinking at Harry in surprise. Once he got his bearings, he demanded, "What are you doing?" and glanced around as if expecting to see other Gryffindors in the room.

Harry was suddenly keenly aware of how weird this must look. Stepping quickly back toward the doorway, he mumbled, "You were having a nightmare."

It was hard to see in the dim light, but he thought Malfoy blushed. "I…I was just…" Then he rallied and sneered, "Has your werewolf got you all taking turns babysitting me?"

Harry just turned and left. But when he got back to his room (Ron still snoring away, unconcerned) his gaze fell on the little box on the side table containing his potions. Then it was as if his body started moving without his permission again; he found himself reaching into the box, pulling out an upopened bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion, and walking back down the hall with it. He didn't knock on Malfoy's door, just walked in and put the bottle on top of Malfoy's bedside table. "Here. If you need it."

His gray eyes glittering suspiciously in the dark, Malfoy asked, "What do you want, Potter?" He glanced sideways at the potion bottle, but made no move to reach for it.

Harry folded his arms, looking awkwardly at the wall. "Look, I get bad dreams sometimes too, okay? Just use the Potion if you need it. Snape made it for me, if that makes you feel any better."

"What do you _want?_ "

"You not waking up the whole house!" Harry snapped, and stomped out of the room.

* * *

 

Malfoy stopped hiding out in his room after that—Remus wouldn't let him anyway—but he certainly didn't go out of his way to interact with Harry, his friends, or anyone in the Order, really. Although Harry did notice that the bottle of Potion in his room had been opened, he made no effort himself to talk to the Slytherin boy, and aside from Mrs. Weasley and Hermione, neither did anyone else.

But at least Malfoy was polite to Mrs. Weasley.

Harry and Ron were playing Exploding Snap in the upstairs parlor while the twins, Percy, and Ginny were packaging some new Wheeze when Hermione stormed into the room. "Oh, honestly, that…that…ferret-faced, shifty-eyed, needle-nosed, lipless LOUT! That useless excuse for a human being, that creeping, crawling, ill-mannered…" she ran out of breath and was forced to stop ranting.

Percy floated up from a pile of colorful cellophane and grinned at her, "My, my, a little perturbed, are we?"

"What's our honored guest done to you now?" Ron asked dryly.

Hermione stomped across the room and threw herself onto the sofa next to Ron as Harry hastily moved to make room for her. "I will grant him credit that he likes to read, and it did not trouble me in the least that he wished to take advantage of Sirius's family's excellent library," she said, in a dangerously-calm voice. "However, having been forced against both of our wills to share classes with me for the past SIX YEARS, I would HOPE that he would be aware by now that I ALSO like to read, and that I too would be taking advantage of the library. I see NO NEED for him to begin reciting out loud various Muggleborn-targeted curses relating to alterations of the skeletal structure—particularly the teeth—the very MINUTE I walk through the library door! GIT!"

Ron growled sympathetically. "Was he still there when you left?"

She shrugged. "I think so. Prat," she grumbled.

"Did you say anything to him before that?" Ginny asked.

Hermione sighed heavily. "Only 'hello,' like a perfectly civilized human being, but I suppose it would be too much to expect him to understand such a gesture. Toad."

"Oh, come on, love, knowing you, you probably tried to get him to talk about the weather," said Fred with a knowing grin.

"I DIDN'T!" she shrieked, throwing a sofa cushion at him. Percy exclaimed in protest when it sailed through his form before hitting George in the side of the head. "All I did was say the Blacks had a really amazing library! He had a stack of books three feet high next to him—I would have thought he would appreciate it! Louse!"

George laughed out loud. "I'm sure he did appreciate the library, but you don't really think he'd tell you that, do you? Come on, Hermione, you represent everything in the universe he hates!"

She pulled her knees up under her chin and muttered, "I'm trying to do what's _right._ He's being protected by our side; he doesn't have to be shunned. Or at least I thought he'd appreciate an effort to put the past aside. Pri—"

"Hermione!"

"Let it go," said Ron, putting his arms around her. "Malfoy's Malfoy, he's not gonna change. It's not worth it."

"Not talking to him, anyway," said Fred, with a knowing grin at his twin. George chuckled, and the two of them cheerfully excused themselves and sauntered out of the room.

Harry should have expected what happened later that afternoon.

They had just finished sitting in on a rather dull Order meeting (everyone was either out on missions or off duty and no reports had come in yet, so essentially nothing was happening) when panicked shrieks echoed through the halls of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Most of them jumped up in alarm, but the twins remarked, "Took him long enough!"

"What did you do?" Hermione demanded, but Ron was already sprinting for the door, with Ginny at his heels, laughing eagerly.

They found Malfoy still in the library, scrambling over tables and chairs and dodging frantically around bookcases, with no less than two dozen books on his heels, all of them snapping away at him like the Monster Book of Monsters. He was hexing them to no avail. "Get away, get away!" he yelled at Harry and the others as they came in. "They're cursed or something!"

"They're what, Malfoy?" asked Ron innocently.

"You bloody—AAH!" (Snapsnapsnapsnapsnap!) You did this! UNDO IT! Make them stop!"

"Make them stop what?"

"OW! Geroff, get awa—HELP!" Malfoy was too busy running for his life to think of throwing hexes at Ron or the twins. "Go chase THEM, you stupid—" (Snap!) "OW!"

"Sorry, mate, they only like eating bloodless little gits," said George, lounging against a table and wiggling his fingers cheerfully as Malfoy and his pursuers went by.

"HEEEEELP!" (Snapsnapsnapsnapsnap!)

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Hermione shoved past them all. "That's ENOUGH!"

"What, Hermione, you begrudge us the chance to defend your honor?" cried Fred, with a wounded expression.

She rolled her eyes, "No, but I'd rather you didn't damage the BOOKS!"

Surprisingly, at that, the bloodthirsty tomes broke off their pursuit and returned to their shelves—well, all but one. Their former prey watched in disbelief as a small volume skittered its way across the floor until it stopped at Hermione's feet…then flew up to her face and gave her what was unmistakably a papery kiss on the cheek. She blinked. Malfoy growled and stalked out of the room.

Ron, Ginny, and the twins collapsed with laughter.

* * *

 

Everyone was incredibly relieved when the delegation returned from the United States. Harry couldn't help but notice the way Draco came thumping down the stairs when the cry went up that the team was back, or the way he hovered in the doorway watching them talking to the Order. When Snape finally broke away from Tonks and Percy's grilling and met Draco's gaze, Harry thought he saw Draco swallow very hard.

It occurred to Harry that Malfoy had been worrying about Snape. It was a strange thing to realize.

As Snape was crossing the room, and Malfoy stepped toward him with visible relief, Mr. Weasley intercepted them. "Severus, before you go, a word?"

Snape frowned, glancing from Mr. Weasley to Malfoy, then pursed his lips. "Very well." The two stepped toward the corner.

Harry heard Mr. Weasley say something about, "Minerva," and he and Snape muttered amongst themselves for a moment, then Snape motioned Draco over. The muttering resumed, and Harry returned his attention to what the rest of the team were talking about, until…

"NO!" Everyone jumped. Malfoy was storming away from Snape and Mr. Weasley, looking alternately furious and distressed.

"Draco—" Snape began.

"I'm NOT staying here any longer!"

Ron shot Harry a look of horror, but Harry was too busy wondering what was going on. Mr. Weasley did not seem exactly thrilled himself, but he was firm, "We can't guarantee the security of Hogwarts any more. Not without…" he gave Snape an apologetic look and sighed. "Not without Albus. Minerva is convinced of that."

"So we're not as safe! Big bloody deal!" Malfoy snapped, pacing back and forth in a manner not unlike Snape (or Sirius, or Harry himself.) "It's a war, remember? This place can't be THAT airtight!"

"Draco, be quiet," said Snape. He jerked his head at Mr. Weasley and Mad-Eye Moody. "We should discuss this elsewh—"

"No, you're not bloody discussing keeping me at this bloody—"

"Draco, I said QUIET!" Snape snapped. Everyone jumped, including Malfoy, but the Slytherin boy subsided, and Snape actually looked apologetic as he followed Moody and Mr. Weasley out of the room. "I'm concerned about what Minerva feels the weaknesses…" the door closed.

Malfoy let out his breath and resumed pacing, ignoring everyone else. Tonks muttered something to Remus, and they departed into the drawing room near the foot of the stairs, while Harry and the others arranged themselves all over the stairs.

"You realize what this means?" Ginny asked miserably. "We'll probably have to put up with Malfoy all…summer…long."

"Summer," Ron sighed heavily. "And Christmas holidays. And spring. Bloody forever, it's not like he's got anywhere else to go." This time, Hermione saw Harry's face, and poked Ron in the ribs.

"We can just keep on like before—and with Snape around more often, he'll be more under control."

"God!" Ron threw himself backward to sprawl on the stairs. "What if they have SNAPE living here too? What a ruddy nightmare!"

"If we have to put up with Malfoy, I'd rather Snape was here," said Ginny. "And it's not as if Snape can give us detentions over the summer. It wouldn't be that bad—he'd also keep Malfoy occupied."

"True, probably brewing Potions in the basement," one of the twins snorted.

"Fine with me, so long as they're away from us," muttered the other.

A few minutes later, an expressionless Snape came up from the basement and called to Malfoy, who stalked out of the front parlor and followed him back down the stairs. "Yep," Ron sighed. "Bad news all right."

Only moments after that, the basement kitchen door slammed open, and they heard Snape shout, "Draco!" but the Slytherin boy wasn't listening anymore. He stomped into the hallway, trembling head to toe, but spotted the group on the stairs and wheeled toward the nearest drawing room. He threw the door open, and ran inside, but then tore back out again just as quickly and forced his way up the stairs past Harry and his friends, his face flaming.

Snape came up from the basement a moment later, glanced up the stairs where Malfoy had gone, then looked down at them. "Potter, it appears Mr. Malfoy and I will be remaining at Grimmauld Place for the duration of the war."

Someone stifled a groan, but Harry stood up. "Do they really think Hogwarts isn't safe anymore?"

Snape shook his head. "It is a question of resources, and the primary defense Hogwarts could always boast was Albus Dumbledore. During the summer, without the presence of the entire staff and student body, the risks to those remaining at the school has increased to a point where the Headmistress does not consider it safe to house us. Until the term resumes, we must remain at Headquarters."

"Oh." Harry swallowed. "Well, I…er…guess that makes sense."

Snape shot him a patronizing look and continued up the stairs.

"Well," Ron sighed. "Guess that's that then."

Then a loud squack echoed from upstairs, followed by a scream of, "That bloody HIPPOGRIFF'S in this house!"

* * *

 

For the most part, Ginny's prediction about life in Grimmauld Place was fairly accurate. Snape converted the basement kitchen into his Potions lab (forcing the Order to move their meetings to the downstairs parlor), and Malfoy spent most of the time there with him.

"Malfoy's a good Potions brewer," Hermione said once. "Even working on things with Snape, he's probably happier there than he would be otherwise."

"As if we care whether _Malfoy_ is happy or not," Ron snorted.

"Anyway, we've got more important things to worry about!" said Ginny. "We've got a very important event coming up and only two weeks to plan for it!"

The twins stared at her. "What event?"

"Harry's _birthday_ , of course!" Harry stared, and Ginny went on, "You're turning seventeen, remember? We have to have the biggest bloody party in history!"

Then everyone stared at her.

"Bloody hell," Ron breathed. "You're right!"

"A party?" Harry whispered.

"Yes, a party!"

And so it went. Over Harry's stammered half-protests, Hermione and the Weasleys stampeded into the drawing room and informed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley of their intention to host a massive festivity for Harry's coming of age. Mrs. Weasley's squeals and the Order's fussing left Harry wondering if his face would ever stop being red, but at the same time…all their plans and suggestions for plans left him with a weird, but not at all bad feeling inside.

The Weasleys and Hermione took control of the plan-making, not surprisingly, and peppered Harry endlessly with questions about what sort of party he wanted, what sort of sweets and presents and decorations…in general, all sorts of weird things Harry had hardly ever heard of. Sirius and Remus were almost as bad.

"Chocolate cake or treacle tart, Harry?"

"Weasley favors or just generic favors?"

"Should we hang streamers or garlands?"

"Do you want roast beef for dinner or roast chicken?"

"And what kind of games?"

"Uh…yes?"

Malfoy was in the kitchen at one point tending a potion when they came in to decide whether the oven was big enough, and watched them with a look of combined envy and disgust. "I can't believe the fuss you're making!"

"We'll see if you feel the same when YOU turn seventeen," Hermione retorted.

"I AM seventeen, you stupid chit," Malfoy retorted. "I came of age in June, not that you'd know or notice!"

"We only notice people who're WORTH noticing,"Ron shot back. "How many people care about YOUR birthday now that you're not rich?" Malfoy snarled and stalked out of the kitchen.

"Oh, Ron, that was a bit much," said Hermione.

"Right," Ron snorted. "Don't give him a thought, mate," he said to Harry.

"He's right," Sirius agreed. "This day will be for you." He ruffled Harry's hair.

"And we solemnly swear that we are up to no good," added Remus, coming into the kitchen. He looked at the bubbling Potion cauldrons lining the wall and pulled a face. "I'll have to prevail upon Severus to move these out of the way for a few days so we can have full use of this room, for the feast Molly and the others are planning."

"You…don't have to go to all that trouble, you know," Harry mumbled—and then had to run for his life when they all began chasing after him shouting all manner of dire and humiliating threats.

* * *

 

And so July 31st dawned, rather foggy with yellow London smog, but to Harry, the day was beautiful. No one bounced onto his bed to wake him up—rather, they let him sleep as late as he wanted, and he woke to the soft sounds of Ron and the twins and Ginny playing NON-Exploding Snap quietly on Ron's bed, talking amongst themselves, and with Hermione, who was curled up in a borrowed armchair with a book.

He let himself wake up slowly, savoring every second, until he was too excited to doze a moment longer, then turned over. "Wellll, look who finally decided to participate in his own bloody coming of age!" exclaimed Ron.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the twins all piled on top of Harry, yelling at the top of their lungs, knuckling his head and tickling him as he yelled that they weren't supposed to torture him on his birthday, but just as they were piling off him, Sirius and Remus burst through the door.

"Where's the birthday boy? Where is that lad? HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Remus and Sirius joined the pile of bellowing bodies on the bed, everyone yelling and laughing, and before long Bill, Charlie, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley added their felicitations to the tumult.

Harry heard snatches of songs being sung at him, and all he could do was laugh until tears streamed down his face.

Finally, they all clambered off him. "All right, up, you lot, up!" Mrs. Weasley ordered. "Give our birthday boy some room! All right, where's our breakfast?"

Before Harry could even think of getting out of bed, Tonks came sauntering in hovering a tray laden with what appeared to be enough food for the entire Order to have breakfast. As Harry babbled in disbelief, she and Mrs. Weasley arranged the tray across his lap (and made a fuss over tucking a napkin into his collar.) Sirius and Remus began serenading him again, Ron stole a sausage, and more plates of food followed for a thoroughly raucous meal on Harry's bed and floor.

After breakfast, the food was cleared, Harry was allowed to take a bath and get dressed, then he joined his friends, Sirius, and Remus in the drawing room. The walls and mantle and candleholders were liberally festooned with streamers, balloons were scattered everywhere, and a huge banner hung from the walls, reading, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!"

They spent all morning in the drawing room together, alternating between various party games and stories from Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and Moody about Harry's parents and all the goings-on of the previous Order generation. A light lunch followed (saving room for dinner), and more games, and presents.

Lots and lots of presents.

When they were heading to the dining room for the birthday feast (as Remus put it), Mrs. Weasley noticed that Snape and Malfoy were absent. Harry saw her talking to them in the hallway. "You are going to come to dinner, aren't you, Severus?"

"Thank you, no, Madam, we are busy this evening. And I am certain you wish to entertain Mr. Potter," said Snape. He gave Harry a short nod, and Harry spied Malfoy standing behind him, watching all the activity silently.

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again, and turned around and went off to the dining room for dinner.

Later, they were eating Harry's birthday cake (seven layers, three levels, each with different kinds of cake and ice cream, and _HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!_ written on top with seventeen little sparklers surrounding it,) when Malfoy passed by the parlor again. His eyes widened at the sight of it, and he hesitated in the doorway. Mrs. Weasley stepped towards him. "Draco, wouldn't you like a bite of cake?"

Malfoy stared past her to where Harry was standing at the table, surrounded by family and friends. He met Malfoy's look, and merely said, "Come on," then returned to cutting large pieces out of the enormous cake.

Mrs. Weasley brought over a piece big enough for three people and handed it to Malfoy. "Enjoy it, dear."

Malfoy had just taken his first bite, when Snape walked into the room. Harry watched as he looked around, spotted Draco, then took in the other revelers around the table. Without a word, he walked over to the table, held out his hand, and, as Harry placed a plate of cake in his outstretched hand, said, "Happy Birthday, Potter. May it be a successful year for you."

"Yeah. Thanks," Harry said. He watched as Snape walked over and leaned against the wall next to Malfoy while he ate the cake. Harry decided that out of all the strange things that had occurred this year, perhaps the most bizarre had to be seeing Snape and Draco Malfoy eating cake at his birthday party.

* * *

 

The next day, Harry was in the parlor with Remus after Sirius went on an errand with Snape and Tonks, when Hermione came storming in. "Oh, for heaven's sake! Remus, was this your idea?"

Remus blinked at her. "What idea?" Harry asked.

Hermione brandished a book accusingly. "That I read THIS!"

The book was Broadening The Mind And Enhancing The Inner Eye: A Beginner's Guide to Divination. Harry stared. Remus said innocently, "Well, you ought to get up to speed in the subject..."

"I don't WANT to study Divination!" Hermione sputtered. "I DROPPED Divination, remember?"

"Why, yes, as I recall, you did so most dramatically. That's why you ought to work on it now," Remus replied.

She eyed the text with distaste. "It's a lot of rubbish."

"Trelawney does give real prophecies," Harry pointed out.

Hermione glared at him as if to say, _Whose side are you on,_ and said, "And she spends the rest of her time weeping and wailing about your impending death."

"Well, maybe she's onto something," Harry said.

Hermione went pale, and Remus looked sharply at him. "Don't you talk like that."

"Sorry," he said, feeling guilty. "But why should Hermione have to study it if she doesn't want to?"

"Because," Remus drew her to sit down with him on the sofa. "It is a useful thing to know, and we have very few people who truly _understand_ the processes and sciences of Divination—most real Seers, as we have seen all too well, have…er…difficulty engaging in intelligent conversation. We don't want someone to simply give prophecies but to understand how they work. Do you see?" Hermione was looking less disgruntled, and he nodded. "The only exposure you've had to Divination has been Sybill. But I think it would be a useful thing for you to know and comprehend, and it's a difficult subject to understand and absorb. We need someone who's good at learning." He smiled and tapped her on the nose. "You're it."

"Can't argue with that, Hermione," Harry told her.

She heaved a dramatic sigh, but smiled sheepishly. "I guess it doesn't sound so bad." And as Harry expected, her face abruptly turned curious, and she opened the book to the Table of Contents and began scanning the chapters' titles, questions visibly running across her eyes.

Remus winked at Harry, and they resumed their own work.

About twenty minutes later, Hermione was curled up on the sofa, completely absorbed in the book, and Snape and Sirius had just returned from whatever they'd been doing at the Ministry, grumbling about bureaucrats, when there was an incredible commotion from down at the library.

"It's not you they're afraid of anymore, Black, you're everybody's hero. No, they're afraid the old ex-Death Eater's going to…"

"What's all that?" demanded Remus, turning to the door.

Harry listened to the yelling and laughter, and said, "Sounds like the twins got Malfoy again." With a snort, he trotted down the hall with Hermione at his heels.

They could hear Weasley voices raised in laughing taunts, and Malfoy bellowing in outrage over whatever latest prank they had pulled, and Hermione grumbled something about their maturity as Harry opened the library door…

Malfoy was floating upside down in the air, his robes hanging down around his head as he kicked and thrashed in vain. Hovering him with their wands were Ron and Fred, as George and Ginny doubled over with laughter, egging them on…

Harry didn't really remember what happened after that. All he knew was that it felt as if something inside his chest had gone _pop!_ , and then everyone yelled in surprise as books shot off the shelves, and some of the freestanding bookcases actually crashed over on each other. Glass shattered in the room and somewhere down the hall, and feet were pounding toward them, people were yelling, and Malfoy hit the ceiling, yelling even louder.

There was someone behind him, not moving, but other people were yelling even louder, then Malfoy hit the ground, cursing furiously and scrambling to pick up his wand, and people were staring and…

"Harry?" someone gently touched his shoulder. "Harry, what's the mat…"

Harry's vision came back into focus, and he saw Ron and his siblings, staring at him as if he'd grown a third head, and Malfoy scrabbling for his wand, looking over his shoulder at Harry and demanding, "What the eff is wrong with him?"

And then he turned and ran, shoving past Snape, who was still standing motionless behind him on the steps leading down to the library floor.

* * *

 

"Harry!" Ron shouted, alarmed at the sheer horror on his friend's white face as Harry fled the library.

None of them could figure out what Harry was so worked up about, but Snape, Sirius, and Remus were all standing motionless on the steps, looking equally stunned. Malfoy had regained his wand, but now stood warily, also wondering what seemed to be afflicting half the Order.

"Professor?" Hermione asked, tugging Snape's sleeve cautiously.

"What?" Malfoy said, keeping a wary eye on the Weasleys.

Remus shook himself out of it first and murmured, "Sirius, you'd better…I mean, we'd better…talk to Harry…"

"Yeah," Sirius said weakly.

"Severus, you'll…" Remus gestured vaguely at Malfoy, who blinked.

"Yes," Snape muttered, going to Draco's side. "Are you all right?" he asked, sounding genuinely shaken.

Draco stared at him, baffled. "Uh…yeah…are you?" he demanded. Instead, Snape just put a hand on his shoulder and urged him toward the step.

"Sirius, you…" Remus motioned to the door in the direction Harry had gone. "I'll just…" he gestured to the Weasleys.

"Right," Sirius said, and shuffled out the door.

"What the hell's the matter with all of you?" Ron demanded again.

Snape rounded on them, "Do you have any idea what you've just done, Weasley?"

"What are you talking about?" Draco exclaimed. "It's not like they murdered me—it'd take more than their puny pranks to do anything serious!"

But Snape didn't seem to hear him. Ron answered him faintly, "It was just a joke."

Remus winced hard. "Oh, god. Severus…"

"Later, Lupin. Deal with them," he said. "And Potter. I'll take care of Draco."

He ushered Draco out of the library, over the Slytherin's protests of, "I don't NEED taking care of!"

* * *

 

Sirius found Harry curled up on his bed. He sat down on the edge and put a hand on his godson's shoulders. "Harry…"

Harry had to swallow several times before he felt the nausea go down enough to talk. "I'm not mad," he muttered.

He felt Sirius rubbing his back. "You know, I'm not excusing what they did…but they had no way of knowing…"

"I know!" Harry said, then cringed inwardly, because it sounded like he was snapping at Sirius. He made up for it by covering Sirius's hand with his for a second. "Is…Malfoy okay?"

"I think so. He seemed more confused by our reaction than upset by…what happened. Snape will see to him." Sirius took a deep breath, and whispered, "You know…when I think of what…James and I did, all those years ago. I've never been proud of it—really, when we were adults, even when James was alive, we regretted some things, but…I was never so angry at myself—at us…as I was when you found out."

Harry sat up and looked at him. "Why?"

"Well, I can't really explain why in a way that makes sense…we were just callous, and it was entertaining, and…"

Shaking his head, Harry interrupted, "I mean, why are you angry at yourselves now?"

Sirius lightly ruffled his hair. "Because no matter how much or how little we felt about hurting someone like Snape…none of us ever imagined how much we'd hurt you."

Harry had to look away for a few moments. Sirius pulled him into an awkward hug. "I'm not mad at you either. I mean…well, I was, but I guess…not anymore, really, I'm just…sorry it happened at all. Any of it. I…I mean…I felt bad for him, when I saw—Snape, I mean, but Malfoy too—I know what it's like, people ganging up like that, and it's just…"

"I know. I know." Sirius tightened his grip briefly before letting Harry go. "Remus is having a firm word with them, believe me. The pranks on Malfoy will stop." He chucked Harry gently under the chin. "Try not to dwell on it. You shouldn't have to pay for our mistakes."

"Everyone always seems to pay for everyone else's," Harry said, with a strangled laugh.

"Don't I know it," Sirius said, but he grinned.

* * *

 

Some time later, Draco was finally released from the bizarrely-intense concern of Professor Snape, and he found his previous tormentors loitering in the upstairs hallway outside Potter's room. "He shattered half the glass in the basement!" Ginny Weasley was saying. "Remus and Sirius have been talking to him for hours, and SNAPE even asked if he was okay—like he was really worried!"

"This is too weird," Ron muttered.

Draco walked right up to them. "Do you know what the hell this is about?"

One of the twins turned to him. "No! Everyone's gone bloody mental! What's the matter with Snape?"

"How should I know?" Draco scratched his head. "He kept acting like I'd landed on my head or something. Wouldn't let me out of his sight and kept asking weird questions about my state of mind!"

Ron sat down against the wall. "Harry doesn't blow out windows unless he's REALLY upset about something."

"Has he got some sort of phobia about being upside down?" Draco suggested.

Ginny tilted her head, looking thoughtful, and mused, "No, I don't think that'd make him react like that. And if that was all, it wouldn't explain the way they're acting about you."

"He does it when he's angry," said Granger quietly. "The violent magic, I mean. Not scared. Just angry."

All the red-heads looked at each other in dismay. Ron said nervously, "D'you think he was…angry at… _us?_ "

There was silence for a long time. "Bloody hell," said one of the twins. "What'd we do?"

Draco shrugged. "You hung me upside down for a few minutes, but that's not that much to upset someone like Potter. Is it?"

* * *

 

True to Sirius and Remus's word, the pranks against Draco stopped, and an uneasy truce was declared between Gryffindors and Slytherins in the House of Black. Malfoy still declined to participate in any activity with Harry and his friends that wasn't mandated by either Snape or Remus, and he was downright scornful when Hermione suggested that he help her find more books on Divination in the library. Although he did (at the rather firm suggestion of Snape) allow her to assist him on a complicated Potion when Snape was at Hogwarts preparing for classes to begin.

That was the shortest summer Harry had ever experienced, but it wasn't surprising, since it was also the best summer he had ever had. A week after his birthday, the twins were mostly absent from Headquarters, working hard in their Diagon Alley premises and Zonko's to prepare for the school sale season, and there were several bad attacks in Devonshire that had the Order occupied.

Harry told Remus and Sirius one day shortly before school resumed, "I've got to get ready. To fight Voldemort. The war won't end until I do."

"You can't fight him until we're sure you can win," Sirius said firmly. "Otherwise it'd be that much worse for everyone. Don't rush it, Harry. We'll keep going as we have until you know what you need." He looked at Remus. "After all, that one's not finished giving you your Defense education yet."

Harry grinned. "Good point. I wish you could get a teaching job at Hogwarts."

"Maybe some day," said Sirius. "Dunno if I'd have a head for teaching."

Remus muttered something playfully uncomplimentary, and got a cuff in response. "Perhaps I'll step aside next year and let Severus have that job he's always wanted. When the war's over, I'll happily retire, now that Madam Bones has reinstated benefits for werewolves."

"Snape teach Defense?" Harry exclaimed. "Who would they get to teach Potions?"

"I get the impression he's grooming one Draco Malfoy for the job," said Remus knowingly. At Harry's startled face, he nodded and grinned. "Yes, well, Draco can't count on his family's earnings for certain, can he? Even if he manages to inherit after the wrath of Lucius is through, the Ministry may well forfeit the whole estate. The lad's got to make a living, and he is quite intelligent."

"If you say so," Harry said.

The Slytherins in general, it was well known, were badly rattled by Draco Malfoy's defection from Voldemort's cause, but the majority of the older Slytherins who'd supported it had vanished from Hogwarts just as their parents had vanished from normal wizard society. And Harry had noticed that Snape kept Draco close, particularly when brewing Potions and working on class materials.

Grooming him to teach. What a strange thought.

So the summer ended, and Sirius accompanied Harry and the others to King's Cross to see them off. "Look after him, Remus," he said, in a tone that startled Harry a little.

There was to be no Quidditch their seventh year, which broke the hearts of many students (Ron most of all), but Harry had to admit it made sense. There was no Slytherin team at all, and the Ministry made it clear that they could not supply the security necessary to keep the games safe.

It was said that Hogwarts was not nearly so secure as it had been.

Harry and his friends saw Malfoy frequently in the halls and classes, as always, but at Hogwarts, it was easiest to pretend as if the summer had never happened—by ignoring each other. Hogwarts was normal, not the bizarre surreality that had formed due to Draco and Snape's presence at Grimmauld Place.

If any of the younger Slytherins thought to try anything against Malfoy, it was well known that they would have their formidable Head of House to contend with. Snape's behavior that year was downright bizarre. He wasn't exactly friendly—no, he wasn't friendly at all—nor was he any less difficult and demanding a teacher, but…something about his bearing from day to day had changed. He seemed more…

"Upbeat?" Ginny suggested one day.

"The day Snape's upbeat is the day I bounce off the top of the Astronomy Tower to try and fly," Ron told her.

"I wouldn't call him upbeat," Hermione said. "But he does seem more…"

"Hopeful," Harry mused. They all looked at him, and he blushed. "That's just what I thought."

"You know, that would make sense, in a weird way," said Ron. "People have heard he'll get the Defense job next year."

"Is it true he's grooming Malfoy to teach Potions?" Ginny asked.

"That's what they say," said Harry, letting her try in vain to smooth down his hair. "He is giving Malfoy a lot of extra lessons. And Malfoy certainly doesn't need Remedial Potions."

"Malfoy doesn't say anything to you, does he?" Ron asked Ginny.

"Nothing, he completely ignores me."

"Us too," said Ron. "Which is fine." He glanced quickly at Harry, still remembering how Harry had reacted when they'd ganged up on Malfoy in the library. Harry never had told them why he'd been so upset.

"Yeah, he doesn't bother us either," Hermione added. "That alone is an improvement on past years."

Hermione was tutoring Neville in Potions so he could take his N.E.W.T. and try to qualify for a Healer training program. To everyone's surprise, when she asked Snape for the use of the Potions lab during study periods, he gave permission—with the usual dose of threats as to what would happen if she and Longbottom caused any damage, but it was surprising enough that he said yes at all.

"He and Malfoy are in there sometimes during off hours too," she told Harry and the others.

"I bet that's awkward," Ron said, pulling a face.

Neville shuddered. "You have no idea."

Hermione poked him. "I've told you not to let other people bother you while you're working! You have to concentrate!"

"I'm trying, Hermione!"

Luna, in the library with them at the time, scooted her chair closer to Neville and said, "Professor Snape wishes Draco Malfoy to be provided for."

"That'd explain why he's trying to get Malfoy the teaching job," said Ginny.

Luna shook her head. "There is more to providing for a person than seeing to their employment. Professor Snape wishes Draco to have a purpose after he is gone."

"Snape going somewhere?" asked Ron doubtfully.

Harry sighed. "There's a war on, and Snape's one of the biggest targets. I guess it makes sense for him to want Malfoy looked after in case anything happens. Sirius has been doing the same thing anytime he goes on an assignment—making sure Remus can look after me." Ginny shivered, and Ron patted his back sympathetically.

"These are fearful times," said Luna.

* * *

 

They all went back to Grimmauld Place for the Christmas holidays. The truce at Headquarters continued, this time with Malfoy muttering a curt, "Potter," or "Weasley," when he saw them in the house. Hermione he still didn't talk to at all, even when they were working together in the library.

"How was the term?" Mrs. Weasley asked on their first night back.

"Not bad," Ginny told her. "Did you hear about Neville? We think he may become an Animagus!"

Sirius and Remus stopped muttering amongst themselves and exclaimed, "Really?"

Hermione nodded. "He kept on with trying to transform last year and this year, and Professor McGonagall thinks he might manage it. She's tutoring him."

"Any idea what he might be?" asked Tonks.

"Something with feathers," said Harry. "From the look of it."

"Imagine Neville, who hates brooms and can't fly, being a bird Animagus. That would be ironic," said Hermione.

"At least he'd get to fly," Ron grumbled. "I miss Quidditch."

"Me too," Ginny and Harry chorused.

Sirius ruffled Harry's hair. "What can you do? It's just too dangerous anymore. Too dangerous for a lot of things," he sighed and grimaced. "War's no fun."

"That's the truth," said one of the twins, flopping into a seat. "What I wouldn't give for a little Quidditch."

Ginny perked up. "Any chance we could go to the Burrow, just for a little while, so we could play a few games?"

"There's an idea!" exclaimed Harry. "We've all got our brooms!"

Sirius looked thoughtful, while Mrs. Weasley frowned, but Remus said, "I'll talk to the Order. The Burrow may be watched, but perhaps we can find a suitable field for a few hours."

"That'd be brilliant," Ron breathed.

"No promises," Remus said, but he did assure them he would look into it.

"Where's Snape and Malfoy?" Harry asked after Remus had gone.

"Setting up shop in the basement again, I think," said Bill. "We thought about having them move their little operation into the old hall in back, but then the fumes would be all over the house."

"Ugh," muttered Ginny. "Some of those Potions smell worse than rotten eggs – like something died!"

The door opened,and Remus entered, accompanied by Mad-Eye Moody. Everyone fell silent, waiting for an answer from Remus. But it was Moody who spoke. "Absolutely bloody not! Going to the Burrow is out of the question. We've no doubt it's under surveillance and that we'd have a Death Eater attack as soon as you lot arrived."

"What about somewhere else then?" pressed Ron. "Just some random field."

Tonks put in sadly. "We can't keep you safe out in the open. Even if we could be sure we could go somewhere that you wouldn't be seen right away, it'd take too many Order members to protect you."

Harry's heart sank. "Meaning we're stuck at Headquarters for the duration."

"I'm sorry, everyone," said Mrs. Weasley. "I know it's boring, but there's no other way to protect you. You'll have to stay here."

A chorus of disappointed groans followed his statement. Remus gestured to Sirius. "Come with me, Padfoot. Let's put our brilliant heads together and come up to a solution to this little problem."

One of the twins snorted. "We're doomed."

"Hey!" said Sirius. "Give us a chance." He and Remus laughed as they left the room.

"Might as well occupy our time," said Ron. "Who wants to let me beat them at chess?"

"Forget chess," Bill replied. "Poker!"

The group hit the floor, cards and chips were produced, and a raucous game of Weasley Poker ensued. Cards appeared and disappeared in various hands, chips were exchanged frequently, and laughter and groans sounded as the game progressed. Time passed enjoyably, although there was much grumbling about Quidditch-deprivation.

* * *

 

Christmas was as wonderful as last year, with rowdy high spirits in the morning over presents under the Christmas tree in the parlor, and the smells of dinner being cooked wafting through the house even before lunch.

They were all playing with Weasley Christmas Crackers when Remus poked his head in. "If you would all please join us in the grand gallery?"

"What's in the gallery?" asked Hermione.

"Nothing, at the moment," replied Remus, as he led the way to the back of the house, where a large room, formerly the ballroom, was located. Sirius was waiting for them, along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, and Bill and Charlie. They followed Remus through the ornate double doors, then stopped and stared. The room had been magically expanded to three times it's normal size, and the ceiling heightened as well. Quidditch goals lined either end of the huge room, and a small viewing stand had been set up on one side.

"Bloody…hell!" Ron gasped. Harry and Ginny were speechless.

"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!" the twins exclaimed together.

The others wasted no time, and brooms began flying into the room in response to cries of "Accio broom!"

Sirius, Remus, and Mr. Weasley settled themselves comfortably in the viewing stand, while Mrs. Weasley laughingly told them all to avoid any serious injuries and returned to overseeing the Christmas dinner preparations.

"So!" George clapped his hands together. "Let's get to work. We haven't got enough people for full-size teams."

"We can set up two teams, if we have only one beater and one chaser per team. That'd be four members per team," said Ron. "Let's see: Bill, Charlie, the twins, Harry, Ginny, and myself. We're one short."

As a group, they turned and looked at Hermione. Hermione stared back, and her eyes got very round.

"Are you crazy?" she squeaked. "I'm hopeless on a broom!"

"C'mon, Hermione," pleaded Harry. "At least give it a try."

Hermione looked from one pleading, puppy-dog face to another. "Oh, all right. But don't blame me if this is a disaster."

Another broom was Summoned for Hermione's use. She gave it an anxious look. Everyone mounted brooms and rose slightly into the air, then paused to watch her. "Here goes nothing," she muttered under her breath.

Throwing a leg over the broom and settling herself in the center, she began to rise slightly off the floor. The broom immediately rolled to the right, and she found herself flat on her back on the floor, as the others tried to restrain their laughter. With a glare, she got up, Summoned back the broom, and tried again. This time, as the broom rose, it rolled to the left, and once again, she was staring up from the floor.

"You're too tense, Hermione," Ginny said, between giggles. "If you'd relax a little, you'd get farther."

Hermione rose determinedly, and Summoned the broom to her once more. "Come on, love," said Charlie. "You can do it."

Bill nodded, encouragingly. "Just think about where you want to go, and the broom will go with you."

"Right!" Hermione straddled the broom, and this time it rose without rolling. It rose, and went higher and higher until it was level with the Quidditch goals. "Okay," Hermione said, "I'm read…." The broom rolled, and Hermione found herself upside down, just below the ceiling, hanging desperately to the broom with her arms and legs. "Help!"

A rush ensued, as everyone sailed up to rescue her. Ron pulled her away from the broom, and managed to get her down to the floor, while the twins corralled the errant broom. Once back with her feet on the floor, Hermione adamantly refused to try again, turning a deaf ear to the pleading of the others.

The door opened, and Harry turned to see Malfoy peering in, eyes wide at the sight of the indoor Quidditch pitch, and his expression turning skeptical at the sight of Hermione holding a broom. Hermione spotted him, and brandished the broom in his direction. "Here! Let Malfoy play! He at least can fly!"

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. "Well…" Harry shrugged.

Ron looked from Hermione to the Quidditch pitch, just waiting to be put to use, to Malfoy in the doorway watching them. "We are short a player, Malfoy," Ron said with a shrug. "We need another Seeker. How about it?"

Malfoy glanced around at the other players, hovering above him, and he too glanced at the tempting pitch. "All right. Nothing better to do at the moment." He Summoned his broom, and mounted as the others watched. "Just as long as I'm not on your team."

"Give it up, Malfoy," said George. "In this game, you're a Weasley teammate no matter which team you're on."

"Right," said Ron. "Here's the breakdown. Harry, Bill, George, and Ginny are team one. Charlie, Malfoy, Fred, and I are team two. Hermione, you get the honor of throwing in the Quaffle to start the game."

Hermione took her place in the middle of the room, and gave her best Hooch imitation. "Let's have a good, clean game!" She tossed the Quaffle into the air, where it was caught by Charlie, and the game commenced.

"You're dead, Potter!" Ron yelled as he took his place at the goals. Harry shook his fist in mock-threat as he went in search of the Snitch.

Ginny and Charlie were shrieking and bellowing as they fought for possession of the Quaffle, and the twins seemed to be trying to bash each other's heads off with the single Bludger being used in the game. Mrs. Weasley came in several times as the game progressed, joined the others in alternating shouts of encouragement and cries of, "For goodness sake, be CAREFUL!" Tonks and Moody came in as well, and Harry heard, "Good show, Potter!" from Moody several times.

"Bloody hurry it up, Malfoy!" Ron yelled at one point. "We're down thirty points!"

"You think catching a bloody Snitch indoors is easy?" Malfoy shouted back.

The teams were fairly evenly matched. Ron was the better Keeper than Bill, but Ginny was a better Chaser than Charlie (the elder Weasley siblings were out of practice, it seemed). Harry found that Draco was right; it was hard to find the Snitch indoors.

"Sirius, did you remember to ward the pitch against Snitch escape?" he called at one point.

"Of course I did, what do you take me for?" Sirius demanded.

"You've gone incompetent on us, Potter!" Ron laughed at him.

"I don't see your Seeker doing any better!" Harry retorted, and attempted an indoor Wronski Feint. Unfortunately, Malfoy didn't fall for it—or at least he realized halfway to the floor what Harry was up to and pulled out of it.

Harry didn't realize until almost two hours into the game that Snape had come in and was watching from the doorway. Malfoy was busy taunting Ginny after Charlie got away with the Quaffle, and—there! He spotted a flicker of gold near the stand and tore after it.

"Hit the floor!" Moody shouted, and the bystanders did so as Harry came streaking in their direction.

"Go, Harry, GO!" he heard Hermione shrieking.

"Whose side are you on?" Ron yelled in outrage. "Come ON, Malfoy, get up there!"

Malfoy collided with Harry from the side, and they both went into a spinning ascent as they fought for control of their brooms while trying to keep an eye on the Snitch. The Order members watching them were going wild, shouting and stomping in the stand, and the noise echoed even more loudly than a real Quidditch game, since this one was confined indoors.

"Harry, INCOMING!" Bill bellowed.

Harry was forced to duck and veer out of the way of a Bludger sent in his direction by whichever twin was on the other team (there was no point in trying to tell which once the game got started), and Malfoy just twisted to one side on his broom and kept after the Snitch. Harry corrected his aim and accelerated hard to catch up…Malfoy was barely a handspan away from it…

The Snitch suddenly folded its wings and dropped…both boys spun into a dive…someone shrieked a warning as they spiraled down, arms straining…

"Watch out!"

"Bank, Harry, bank!"

"Malfoy, what are you trying to do?"

"Look ouuuuut!"

Harry growled with the exertion of flying straight down and reaching, Malfoy grunting next to him, as they swooped within centimeters of each other. The Snitch appeared suddenly directly in front of them, and they both turned their brooms inward at the exact same moment. Everyone in the stand came to their feet, screaming, as the two collided, finishing their descent in a heap of arms and legs on the floor, directly at Snape's feet. Spectators and teammates held their breaths as the two boys untangled themselves and got to their feet. Harry looked at Draco; Draco looked at Harry. Snape looked at them both without changing expression.

"Who's got it? Who's got it?" Ron yelled from above them.

Harry burst out laughing and collapsed onto his back, and Draco swung a fist into the air, the fist grasping the Snitch, beating its wings in an ineffectual attempt to escape. Ron gave a whoop of triumph, and Fred and Charlie soared down to clap Malfoy on the back and victory dance.

The Quidditch celebration continued, with shrieks of laughter, taunts and insults, and much rehashing of every single play of the game. Inter-house enmity was forgotten for the moment in the rush of exhilaration. It might have continued indefinitely, until Mrs. Weasley bustled in.

"Dinner is served." She glanced up into the stand. "Remus, Sirius, Tonks – you too, Alastor – come on down." As she prepared to bustle back out of the room, she paused at the door. "Severus, you and Draco are joining us, I hope?"

By now, the others were becoming aware of the multitude of savory scents wafting through the gallery. "Christmas dinner!" Ron exclaimed. "Let's go."

"You too, Severus, Draco, no arguments!" Mrs. Weasley ordered. "To the dining room, all of you!"

And so Harry and his friends found themselves having Christmas dinner in their final year at Hogwarts with Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy.

"There, you all had fun today, didn't you?" asked Mrs. Weasley, looking from the Gryffindors to Draco.

Harry and Ron exchanged quick glances over their turkey and stuffing. "Er…"

"Eh…"

"Uh-huh…"

* * *

 

They played numerous other games that holiday, alternating team lineups, and there were plenty of victories to go around. Not that anyone wanted to admit how much they were enjoying themselves, playing with infiltrators from other houses, of course.

But when they boarded the Hogwarts express to return to school for the spring term, the old routine returned, complete with steadfastly ignoring each other in the halls. Harry sometimes wondered if Malfoy regretted not being able to talk to them during school, or if Ron or Ginny regretted it, but never got the nerve to ask.

Sirius talked to Harry via Floo almost every night in Remus's office, and Harry was surprised to find that Sirius repeatedly admonished Remus to keep an eye on him. He noticed Snape was spending an increased amount of his time with Draco, also in the company of Professor McGonagall. But neither of them ever managed to ask the other what they thought it was about.

The spring thaw came early that year, and the snow was melting and making the grounds muddy by March. The full moon arrived in the first week of March. Harry would never forget it.

Professor McGonagall ordered all the students up to their common rooms very soon after dinner. "Probably another drill," someone grumbled. They'd been preparing for the possibility of a major attack on Hogwarts all year long.

"If it is, we'll be out in an hour," said Hermione, ushering the first years into the room in her firmest Head Girl voice.

But then the Headmistress came up to Gryffindor Tower, and Harry knew something was happening. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, and Mr. and Miss Weasley, come with me at once. The rest of you, do not leave your Tower under any circumstances. I am sealing the doors."

Harry had no time to think. All he could do was follow her.


	46. Denial of What Must Be

Professor McGonagall brought them to Professor Lupin's office. "But it's full moon!" Hermione protested.

"All the same, we would prefer you away from the other students for now," Professor McGonagall said.

When she led them inside, they saw Malfoy already there with Snape. "What's all this about?" Malfoy demanded, casting a wary eye over his shoulder.

Harry was startled to see a large wolf standing a few feet from Snape. It was larger than what he'd expect a wolf to be, but definitely a wolf, as opposed to a werewolf. "Remus?"

The wolf nodded.

"Potter, you and your classmates will remain here with Professor Lupin while the situation is…dealt with," said Snape.

"What's going on?" Harry asked nervously.

"What situation?" Hermione added.

"We have intruders on the edge of the grounds," said Professor McGonagall. "Is your scar reacting?"

Harry rubbed his forehead. "No…but that doesn't mean Death Eaters wouldn't be here. Or Voldemort could show up later."

Malfoy jumped, and Ron shot him a withering look. "People on _our_ side say his name." Hermione elbowed him.

"But why here?" Malfoy demanded of Snape, glancing apprehensively at Remus-the-wolf.

"I must go join in the defense. You will all be safest here with Lupin," said Snape. He nodded to them all and followed Professor McGonagall to the door.

"Wait!" Malfoy exclaimed. He caught up with Snape at the doorway, his expression anxious, and said something in a low, urgent voice that they couldn't make out. Something flickered across Snape's face that Harry had never seen before, then he silently gripped Draco's shoulder before vanishing out the door.

When the door closed, Draco stared at it for several moments. Ron went and settled himself behind Remus's desk, and Hermione sat down next to Remus-the-wolf. He whined sadly at her, and she scratched him behind the ears, until he rested his head on her knee and closed his eyes. Malfoy slowly crossed the room and joined Harry at the window. They stared out into the darkness of the grounds. The moon was full, but it was behind a cloud.

"What do you see?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing yet," said Harry, squinting out into the blackness.

"Wait..." Malfoy's nose was practically touching the glass. He pointed. "There."

Ron straightened up and said, "What?"

Harry stared until his vision wavered, but then saw what Malfoy was looking at: flashes in the distance of colored light, so faint they were almost invisible. "Curses. In the Forbidden Forest."

Ron scrambled out of Remus's chair, and started around the desk, but knocked his hip against it, causing a small round ornament to start to tip off. Ron yelped and caught it before it fell, and started to put it back on its little three-legged mount. "Sorry, Remus – Hey! Hermione, your name's on this!"

Remus gave a startled bark and came running around the desk, but Hermione came around the other side and took the little globe from Ron's hand. As Remus growled in warning, Harry and Draco turned in time to see Hermione go rigid.

"Hermione?" Ginny asked in alarm.

Her eyes glazed, Hermione spoke in a low, unnatural voice:

" _ON THE THIRD NIGHT OF THE THIRD MONTH, THE FALLEN SHALL NUMBER THREE. BLOOD SHALL BE SPILT OF THE INNOCENT AS WELL AS THE GUILTY AND HERALD THE END OF THE STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE DARK AND THE LIGHT. TWO SHALL DIE DEFIANT…ONE SHALL DIE REPENTANT…TWO SHALL DIE TRAITORS…TWO SHALL DIE FREED…ON THE THIRD NIGHT OF THE THIRD MONTH, THE FALLEN SHALL NUMBER THREE…_ "

Then all at once, she gasped and buckled. Ron caught her as she went limp, but couldn't reach the dropped prophecy globe before it shattered on the floor. Harry, Draco, and Ginny stared in disbelief as Hermione's hazy image floated up, the haunting words echoing again until they faded into nothing.

"Bloody hell," Draco breathed.

Propped up on the floor by Ron, Hermione rubbed her forehead. "What happened?" she mumbled. "Did I faint?"

"You're a _Seer_!" Draco exclaimed. Ginny shoved past the boys and grabbed a random piece of parchment at Remus's desk, writing as fast as she could.

"What?" Hermione blurted.

"Believe it," Ginny muttered. "I think I got it all," she told them.

"That would explain them making you study Divination," said Harry, his mind reeling.

Hermione scrambled to her feet and rounded on Remus. "Was anybody planning on telling _ME_ about this?" The wolf cringed away from her and whined piteously, his tail between his legs. Hermione threw up her hands and stalked over to Ginny's side. "What'd I say?"

"You don't remember?" asked Malfoy, in surprise.

"No, I don't bloody remember! Is this all of it?"

"Think so," Ginny said.

"Blood of the innocent and guilty..." Hermione looked at Harry in horror.

Ginny was still writing. "Two traitors...two defiant...one repentant...two freed...that doesn't make any sense. You said only three would die."

Draco spoke in a shaking voice. "Yes, it makes sense…if someone is both a traitor and free." All the color was slowly draining from his face. "And defiant, too. For three people to die, one of them has to be all three things."

Ginny froze with the quill in her hand. "Oh, no."

A traitor, free and defiant… _Snape_

Draco started towards the door, looking dazed. "I...I have to go," he said, distractedly.

Harry ran and grabbed his arm, pulling him back from the door. "Hang on. You know we can't go out there."

"I have to bring him back."

"Malfoy, don't be stupid," Harry began, and Draco shoved him violently away.

"GET OFF ME!" he roared. "You expect me to bloody sit here while Snape gets killed? You, with your friends and you family," he waved his hand in the direction of the others. "He's all I have! I'm not going to lose him!"

Hermione stepped towards him. "Draco, you can't stop a prophecy," she said quietly. "It's just what the future will be."

"Rubbish!" Draco snapped. He pointed at Ginny and the parchment. "Someone else will die freed tonight, too. Know anyone else who's been freed recently?" he shot at Harry. "Are you just going to sit here and let him die, too?"

Harry suddenly felt a huge weight on his chest. He couldn't breathe. Remus ran between Draco and the door, growling, and Draco drew his wand, shouting at the wolf to get out of his way.

"Malfoy, no!" Hermione shouted and lunged towards Draco. He grabbed her and threw her into Harry, knocking them both off balance. As they struggled to right themselves, they heard Malfoy shout a curse, followed by the wolf's yelp of surprise.

"Remus!' Ginny cried, and another curse from Malfoy blew out the classroom door, as Harry and Hermione rushed to the fallen wolf. Ron raced past them to the door, shouting at Malfoy to stop.

Remus shook his head and pulled his feet back under his body as Harry, Hermione, and Ginny hovered anxiously over him. Ron came back and said, "Malfoy's gone. I tried to Stun him, but..." he shrugged helplessly.

Harry whispered, "Remus? Is Sirius the other person who dies?" Remus let out a miserable cry and nudged Harry's face with his nose.

"What do we do now?" Ron asked.

"Well, we need to get Malfoy back before he does anything stupid," said Harry. "We also can't stay in this room."

He got up and started for the door, but Remus barked in protest, and Hermione said," We shouldn't all go out there."

Ginny ran back to the windows. "It's getting worse out there, but I don't think it's that much closer." She grimaced and said, "I'll stay here if you want – or better yet, I'll go to the hospital wing. There'll be wounded coming in."

"It's not safe for you to go through the halls alone," Hermione protested.

Then Remus got up and walked slowly to Ginny's side. She smiled. "Looks like I've got an escort."

"Right." Harry drew his wand, but Remus whined at him. He looked back and forced a smile. "Yeah. We'll be careful."

O

"Harry," Hermione said as they followed her Seek Spell tracking Malfoy toward the exit to the castle. "You realize, once we get Malfoy…we can't go after Sirius."

There was that weight against Harry's chest again, making it hard to breathe as they half-ran through the dark, silent corridors, the sounds of their feet and ragged breathing echoing loud. "I…"

"We don't know for sure it's Sirius in the prophecy," Ron added, as the Spell led them to a small exit door that had been forced open but sensibly spelled closed again. "And if it is…you know prophecies…"

Harry swallowed very hard as Hermione carefully muttered spells to unlock the door again without compromising the heavy wards sealing the castle. "I know…"

"Let's just get Malfoy back in, go back inside, and…you know…" Ron swallowed. "Hope for the best. It's all we can do, mate." He squeezed Harry's shoulder, and Harry noticed distractedly that his friend was very pale. Ron cared about Sirius too.

"Well, we owe it to Snape to protect Draco," Hermione sighed. "When it's over…if the worst happens…hang on, one more minute…we'll keep him safe." There was a soft click, and the door opened. Harry held her back and moved carefully to it, his wand ready. The curse flashes were still far down on the very edge of the grounds, and he could hear only faintest noises of the battle. He nodded, and they slipped out, closing the door again. Hermione sealed it once more. "I'll be able to get us back in once we've got Malfoy," she whispered.

"Is it safe to do a Seek Spell out here?" Ron asked her.

They scurried over the grounds to hide behind some bushes, and Hermione peered out into the dark. "I don't know."

"They're not that close," Ron said.

"No, but they might see the Spell up here," Harry warned.

Just then, they heard voices and footsteps nearby and hunkered down to stay hidden, but Harry looked out and saw that it was Order members, and with them… "Hey!"

Sirius skidded to a stop and stared at the bushes. "Harry? What the hell?"

"Malfoy's out here somewhere!" Hermione whispered. "We tried to stop him, but he ran off when he found out the prophecy."

Mad-Eye Moody stiffened. "How'd you lot know about it?"

"Never mind! Sirius," Harry grabbed his godfather's robes. "It's… it's not…you…"

Sirius's face fell, and he motioned the other Order members to go on, then led Harry and his friends back toward the building. "If it is me, there's nothing we can do about it, Harry. You know that."

"Sirius…"

Shouts and commotion suddenly erupted from down the grounds, and Sirius pulled them all back against the castle wall, drawing his wand. "Get down—"

"Get off me! GET OFF!"

"You're going right back inside, you idiot little—"

"LEGGO! GEROFF!" yelled a figure who was currently being bodily dragged back toward the castle by Mad-Eye Moody.

Hermione let out her breath in a rush. "Ah. They found him."

Moody was refusing to relinquish his grip on the outraged boy, and hauled him over to Sirius and the others. "Potter? Lose something?"

Hermione snatched Malfoy's wand from Moody and grabbed Malfoy by the ear. "You sodding idiot! You could've got yourself killed!"

"I want Snape!" Draco said stubbornly. "I'm not going to let him him die—"

"Draco? POTTER!" A familiar voice roared. "What the devil do you think you're doing out here?" They all turned to see Snape storming toward them. "Damn it, Potter—"

"Don't blame Harry! It wasn't us this time; it was him!" Ron yelled, pointing at Draco.

But before Snape could respond, his errant student had attached himself to his arms. "The prophecy says you're going to die you can't you have to come backIneedyouyoucan'tbeouthereIwon'tletyoudieplease—"

"Draco!" Snape grabbed the distraught Slytherin by the shoulders. "Calm yourself. There are things I must do for the Order tonight…"

"But the prophecy—"

"I _know_ about the prophecy, Draco!" Snape said, giving him a shake. His bearing softened at the sight of Draco's desperate face. "Listen to me. There has always been the chance of dying in this war."

"No—"

Harry flinched, and Sirius squeezed his shoulders from behind. Snape went on, ignoring all of them but Malfoy. "There is no denying what must be. I cannot abandon my duties, even for you."

"So you'll abandon me instead," Draco said bitterly, but Harry was stunned to notice that his eyes were brimming. Silent behind Harry, Sirius was holding him very tight.

"You don't need me, Draco—"

"Yes, I do!" Draco cried, his voice cracking. "You can't die…"

"I can, and before this night is over, I may," Snape cupped Draco's cheek in one hand said softly, "Or else I would not leave you. But you can survive without me, and you will. I have no doubt of it, and you must not. Let go, Draco."

Around them, the remaining Aurors and Order members who had not returned to the battle were shifting uncomfortably. Ron and Hermione stood solemnly, close to Harry and Sirius. Draco sobbed as Snape released him, and Hermione stepped forward and took his arm, silently pulling him back. She cast an anxious glance at Harry, who turned toward his godfather, longing to scream out denials himself.

Sirius pulled him close and whispered, "Harry, no matter what happens, you realize…" His voice choked off then, and he settled for pulling Harry very tight into his arms. "You know, right?" he rasped. "You know…"

Harry couldn't stop shaking as Sirius released him, but he managed to nod. Ron came up to stand close beside him, and Hermione extended a hand toward both Sirius and Snape as they went to rejoin the battle. "Back inside, you lot," Moody told them. "There's nothing you can do here. We'll do everything we can."

"C'mon," Hermione said softly. "Let's get back—"

 _Zzzzzz_ _—ak!_ A bolt of curse light sizzled by their heads and blasted a dent in the castle wall. "DOWN!" Moody bellowed.

Harry and Ron hit the dirt, scrambling over to Malfoy and Hermione, all of them trying to see where the hex had come from. Moody and the Aurors were returning fire, and the sound of the battle was suddenly much closer. "Stay down!" he hissed at Malfoy, who fortunately showed no further sign of trying to take off.

"God, what's happening?" Malfoy gasped beside them.

"There's a battle going on; that's what's bloody happening!" Ron hissed.

Harry could see black robes swirling in and out of the darkness and flashes of curse light, and he realized the Order was stuck in the open because they were trying to protect Harry and his friends, backed against the castle wall. "We have to move so they can get to cover!"

"We can't risk opening the door now," Hermione whispered.

Malfoy pointed with a flick of his hand at a large boulder, one of the ones on the grounds that students liked to sit on. "Think we could get behind that rock? If they could cover us for a second?"

"Hang on—Tonks!" Harry called, spotting her in the fray. She heard him and slipped to the back of the pack of Aurors. "Can you cover us long enough to get behind that rock?"

For all her clumsiness, Tonks was a very keen Auror. "Wait for my signal!" she hissed at them.

"Get ready," he muttered at his friends and Draco, and they braced themselves. He could see the wizards passing the word through the Order ranks, and they were starting to spread out, hexing more heavily to force the Death Eater lines back. If they could just hold them off long enough…Tonks flashed green sparks over her shoulder at them. "Go!"

They sprang to their feet and ran, keeping heads down and wands shielding continuously as they scurried like mad for the cover of the boulder. Curses flashed in their direction, and Ron let out a yelp and staggered once, but Malfoy grabbed him, holding him upright.

They were only meters from the scant sanctuary of the boulder when three dark forms surged out from behind it. Harry rocked back on his heels. "Watch out!" he yelled, as Hermione screamed. _"Ferito!"_

He knocked two Death Eaters off their feet, and a Stunner from Ron caught one of the two, but the third slipped back behind the rock. Harry aimed, but Malfoy yelled, "Don't blast our hiding place!" and took aim. " _Reperfringus_ _!"_

A dazzling bolt of energy surged from his wand and aced its way toward the Boulder, but small and rounded like a Seek Spell—only faster and much more powerful. They heard a cry and a thud, and then nothing. "Come on!" Hermione shoved them forward toward the shelter.

The Death Eater was unconscious and bleeding. Harry and Draco Petrified and bound him for good measure, along with the other two, then they crouched there with Hermione, who was examining Ron's leg. "How bad?"

"Just a burn," Ron grunted as Hermione did some Healing Spells. "Hurts like mad, but I can walk."

"That should help," Hermione murmured, conjuring a bandage to wrap it. She looked at the castle. "Lord, we're never going to make it back there in this."

"And I don't know how much longer we can stay here," muttered Malfoy, daring a look over the top of the boulder.

Harry joined him, standing carefully, but he didn't have to keep his head ducked so much, since he was shorter than Draco. What he saw took his breath. He had seen battles before, but…not like this. The moon had come back out. Black robed figures, dozens, maybe hundreds of them, flitted across the dimly-lit grounds like swarming insects, their movements strangely exaggerated and freakish in the flashing strobe-effect of the curse lights. Red-robed Aurors and Hogwarts teachers and other wizards massed closer to the castle, forming staggered, broken lines and bunches of people, all trying to drive the assault back.

_And what will happen if they don't?_

For the first time, the possibility occurred to Harry that Hogwarts would be overrun. If the Order and their allies lost tonight…how long would the wards hold if the Death Eaters took over the grounds? How many Aurors and Order members would die— _Sirius! SIRIUS!—_ and how much longer would any of them live, huddled besieged inside the castle?

A massive shudder caught him, and Malfoy glanced at him. "You hurt?"

"Uh-uh," he mumbled. _Think. Concentrate. Don't let emotion take over…just think about getting us all back to the castle…maybe then we can plan what to do next…_ He shook his head hard and tried to look at the Death Eater lines again, to see how they were moving, and how much longer he and his friends and Malfoy would be safe… _uh-oh._ "We have to move again. Soon."

Hermione and Ron got up then, joining them to peer out at the battle. Ron crouched at the side of the boulder, peering around the side from the Death Eaters to the castle. "We won't make it. Not that way," he said, indicating the most direct route to the castle walls. "It's too open."

The Auror lines were buckling nearest to them. They were stretched too thin, trying to keep from being cut off from the four students. "Bloody hell," Harry muttered. He joined Ron, looking through the red robes and the teachers' robes, trying to figure out what to do.

"They can't stay like this; they have to regroup!" Ron said urgently.

"They're staying stretched because we're here," Hermione said. "We have to try for it! Or get them to pull back and find another way."

"Hagrid's hut, maybe?" Ron scooted to the other side of the boulder and looked around it. "It's a little quieter on that side, and darker. We might manage it and Floo back."

"The Floo won't be open," said Malfoy. "Not from there."

"I'm Head Girl, and the Headmistress gave me the spell to open it," said Hermione. "We could get back if we could reach the hut."

"Either way we have to go that way," said Harry, his resolve growing as he watched the Aurors struggling to keep from being cut off from them. "And we have to tell them to fall back from us."

Draco looked at the Auror lines again, and suddenly murmured, "There's Snape."

"It might not even be—wait!" Harry exclaimed. "Where is he?"

"What? Ah…I've lost him—no, he's there, dragging that Auror…bloody hell…to the back, see him? Why?" Draco demanded.

Hermione had caught on, and her eyes widened. "Legilimency?"

"It's worth a try, Harry, do it, quick!" Ron exclaimed, seeing more red robes starting to drop to the ground unmoving. The Order was sustaining casualties.

Harry concentrated hard on the black-haired figure in swirling school robes, in his own way more impressive than the Death Eaters with their masks, as he started back toward the front lines…he couldn't risk distracting Snape there, he had to…

_Professor! Professor Snape! SNAPE! LOOK AT ME!_

Snape slowed to a halt, stepping back in confusion, and looked around, rubbing his head.

_On your left! The boulder, we're here! Professor, it's Harry Potter!_

Stiffening in shock, Snape turned, and his black eyes, even across that distance, found Harry's. _Potter?_

_Tell the Order to pull back from here—you're losing too many people! We're going to try to get to Hagrid's hut and Floo back. Can you hear me?_

Snape stared at him. _Yes, I hear you. You should return by the nearest…_

 _We'll never make it—look for yourself! All those Aurors will die for nothing—pull them off us! We can get there!_ Harry insisted.

Just then a stray jinx hissed over his head, and he flinched and ducked. Snape faltered as the connection between their minds broke, but Harry saw him shouting to the Aurors. For a split second, Harry feared the Order wouldn't listen to Snape, but then the red figures nearest their hiding place broke and ran.

"Get ready…" Hermione whispered, watching the Death Eater lines.

"We shouldn't try to make it all the way to the hut; they'll see us," Draco warned, tearing his eyes from Snape. "I remember, there was…a ditch in that direction…by the oak tree…"

"Good thinking. If we stay down, they probably won't even see us in there until we move again," Harry agreed.

"If we're going to go, we better do it fast," Ron warned. The Death Eaters were surging forward to claim the ground the Aurors had given up.

"Go!" Hermione hissed.

They bolted. "Don't hex if you don't have to! Don't let them see you…" Harry hissed as they ran, hunched over, toward the tree that was just that much closer to Hagrid's.

Ron gained the furrow, cut by a stream that ran down the grounds during the rainy season, and dropped to a crouch inside, grabbing Harry's arm to pull him to its scant concealment. Hermione followed, slipping and sliding, and turned to give Malfoy a hand down, but the Slytherin boy lost his balance, lurched forward, and wound up sprawled full-length on top of Hermione in the bottom of the gully.

Catching her breath, she blinked up at him and said, "Hi!"

"Bye!" Draco said dryly, and scrambled off, but assisted Ron and Harry helping her off her back. "Now what—"

"GO'WAY!" A positively thunderous voice split through the sounds of the battle and brought Harry and the others right to their feet.

"Look!" Hermione shrieked, pointing at the forest. "It's Hagrid, and—"

"GRAWP!" Ron yelled, pumping his fist in the air. "Get 'em, Grawp! Chase 'em off!"

Draco's mouth was hanging open as the giant—now fully-grown and quite an impressive size, towering over the trees—came storming out of the forest, knocking trees aside, his fists balled with unmistakable menace toward the Death Eaters, Hagrid at his heels.

And they certainly got the dark wizards' attention. The Aurors wasted no time, but fired a fierce volley of curses, almost in unison, that caught a good number of Death Eaters in the back. Harry could almost sense the panic that spread through the dark ranks, and they watched as many began running for cover and disapparating.

The Order wizards were surging forward, driving the Death Eater lines back, and Harry's heart lifted at the sight; it no longer looked as if there was any chance the Death Eaters would reach the castle. "Is this it?" Draco asked. "Have we won?"

"Dunno—oy! Harry!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry and Malfoy turned, and Ron pointed excitedly as dozens of four-legged figures armed with bows and arrows and spears came pouring out of the forest at a full gallop. "Centaurs!" Hermione gasped. "Why would they join the battle?"

"I just hope they're willing to get rid of the Death Eaters for themselves if not for us," Harry grumbled.

One of the Centaurs suddenly broke off from the main herd and came toward them. "Bugger, he's going to give us away!" Ron exclaimed.

"It's Firenze," Hermione said. "I didn't know he was back…er…"

The Centaur reached them. "Harry Potter. You must return to the school."

"That's what we're trying to do!" Ron protested. Firenze spared him only a brief glance before returning his attention to Harry.

"The sun shall rise red on the morrow, and you cannot fight tonight. The dark one will not come for you here. This is not your battle."

Harry stiffened, looking at the chaos covering the grounds before him. "If it's at Hogwarts, then it is my battle," he said tightly. He was tired of prophecies.

"He will not come for you here, Harry Potter. Your battle is with him."

"But _ours_ is with them," Ron said, glaring.

Harry nodded. "And that makes it mine. I'm not running away."

Firenze shook his head, looking almost sad. "Then you will see death," he warned. "This battle is not for you. You are powerless here tonight, and death will surround you."

Before Harry could absorb the words, let alone recover from the tightness they sent through his body, hexes lit up the air around them, and Hermione shouted a warning. "Get down!"

They dove for cover, and in a pounding of hooves, Firenze was gone. "Gee, thanks for your help, ruddy horse," Draco muttered.

"That's no help either," Hermione told him, taking aim. " _Percutio_ "

The Death Eaters who had been driven away from the castle were now retreating toward the quieter areas of the grounds—straight toward them. "We can't stay here!" Ron said.

Harry needed only a moment's glance to see that they were outnumbered and about to be surrounded. "Run. Just run!"

They took off, hexing and shielding as they went, trying to stay just a few steps ahead of the retreating dark wizards. There were red robes too, Aurors giving chase, from the look of it, but Harry didn't think they had time to find out, and they certainly couldn't risk distracting the Order members. They just had to break for the castle.

"Harry, DROP!"

He wasn't sure why, but he did. And it was a good thing too, feeling the powerful hex that blasted just where he'd been. He scrambled to his feet and saw that it was Malfoy who had warned them. The Slytherin boy conjured a strong Shield over his shoulder and caught up with Harry. "Where's Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked, throwing a Blasting Hex at a group of Death Eaters.

"Ahead of us—duck! _Ictus!_ Come on!"

To his relief, Harry spotted Ron's telltale red hair some meters ahead, but when he looked back, he realized he and Draco were seconds from being outpaced. "Problem!"

"Bugger."

In an unspoken accord, Harry and Draco turned and fought, side by side, and sometimes back-to-back as Death Eaters came at them from all directions. There was no time to think, just hex, shield, hex, curse, dodge, hex, shield, shield, double-shield, hex-hex-hex, double-shield—

"You two get out of here!" an Auror shouted, hexing a Death Eater aiming at Harry and Draco. "Get moving!"

"Come on!" Harry grabbed Draco's arm, and they bolted again, suddenly realizing that the crowd of black robes had thinned out considerably; the dark wizards were in full retreat.

Draco, bigger and faster, was just ahead of him, but suddenly stumbled to a halt, stopping right in his tracks to stare across the grounds, his eyes fixed on something. "Dad?"

"Malfoy, what the hell are you—" Then Harry saw it: two wizards still locked in a duel, the air around them lit from the curses that flashed between them, too fast to see their wands, neither giving any quarter to the other even as people ran, cursed, screamed, and fell all around them. A mortal battle.

Neither was masked, and both wore black robes, but Harry recognized them both. Long, fair hair swirled amid the flashes of curse light, and black hair damp with sweat…

He grabbed Draco's arm as the other boy started to move toward them. "Don't!"

"No," Draco choked out, almost hyperventilating.

Harry tried to yank him away. "Listen, you can't stop them!" He could see their faces. Lucius Malfoy would show no mercy, and Snape had never looked so frightening to Harry. They would continue dueling until one was dead.

"HE HELPED YOU!" Draco screamed, trying to wrench his arm free. "HE TAUGHT YOU! YOU'RE JUST GOING TO LET HIM DIE!"

Harry began to fear that he wouldn't be able to hold the taller boy back without hexing him, but out of nowhere, another tall figure appeared and caught Draco in a bear hug, hauling him to the ground. "He said go back to the castle, stupid!"

"Ron!"

Hermione was behind them. "Come on, we have to get back!" But she was less panicked than before; there weren't many Death Eaters left standing on the field, and some of the Aurors were heading toward Snape and Lucius Malfoy.

_You will see death…_

_The fallen shall number three…_

_Blood shall be spilt…_

Harry shuddered as Draco struggled and swore at him and Ron. "We owe it to him," he murmured, more to Ron and Hermione than the near-hysterical Draco. Ron caught his eye and nodded gravely, and Hermione's hands were pressed to her mouth as she watched the duel rage on.

It happened just as Harry feared… _Professor…_ a hex—not from Malfoy—caught Snape and staggered him. Hermione screamed, and Draco let out a howl of denial as his father fired off another curse that dropped Snape to his knees.

Aurors were running now, hexing anything that got in their way, trying to reach the combatants before…they weren't going to make it…

_No…_

Lucius Malfoy towered triumphantly over his fallen opponent, raising his wand…Harry held his breath, and Ron turned his face away…

Malfoy froze. No longer looking at Snape, something had caught his gaze and now he was looking straight up the hill at…

Draco had gone rigid in Harry and Ron's grasp, eyes wide, tear-stained face frozen in shock…

Hermione gasped. Lucius Malfoy was looking directly at his son.

In an instant, it was clear, Malfoy had forgotten all about Snape; he charged past the wounded Potions Master and began tearing up the hill, wild-eyed. Draco was breathing fast again, but he seemed paralyzed. "Move! Move!" Ron yelled, yanking in vain at him. "Come ON!"

"Draco!" Hermione cried, joining the effort.

"Get out of here," Draco suddenly said, in a strangely calm voice, not taking his eyes off his father. Moving his head slightly toward Hermione and Ron, he said hoarsely, "He'll kill you. Get out of here now."

Harry felt frozen too, watching as curses felled every wizard who crossed Malfoy's path. He noticed vaguely the figure trying to come after him, black-haired and black-robed and staggering frantically, trying to shout something…

Harry tugged futilely at Draco's arm, and Ron jumped to his feet, releasing Draco, and pulled Hermione away, yelling over his shoulder, "Come on! Harry! Malfoy, COME ON!"

Lucius Malfoy had nearly reached his son, crouched motionless in the grass with Harry Potter, when a hex caught him in the shoulder from behind. Stumbling, he whirled, with a growl of fury, and spotted the black-haired man standing unsteadily before him…

Snape ducked the curse Malfoy threw at him, but fell anyway, and the Death Eater aimed again…

"Malfoy, DON'T!" Ron shouted, as in a violent wrench that knocked Harry off his feet, Draco tore himself away.

Other Order wizards screamed out warnings as well, but Draco sprinted across the grass and stopped directly between his father and Snape. "NO! Dad, no!"

Lucius froze, wand still pointing. Harry righted himself and stood where he was, wand half-raised. It was much too far to throw a curse from here, but like everyone else, he wasn't quite sure what to do.

The interrupted duel was close enough for him to hear clearly. Lucius, though completely still, spoke in a voice that trembled, and not with fear. "You. My son. Here."

Draco, on the other hand, was shaking like a leaf. "Dad, don't. Please. Not him."

"Get out of my way, Draco."

"Draco!" Snape gasped, trying to get to his feet.

Lucius aimed his wand directly at Draco, causing the boy to cringe in naked terror, and snarled, "I am your father! I pledged you to the Dark Lord's service, and he made a fool of me! For the last time…get…out…of…my…way!"

"Dad, please…"

Composure deserted Lucius, and he roared, "HOW DARE YOU? YOU DISGUSTING, UNGRATEFUL TRAITOR!"

It was like an electric shock, that word, rippling under Harry's skin; he heard Ron gasp. And in that moment, Draco's mouth opened slightly in surprise, all sign of fear deserting him as his lips soundlessly repeated his father's word.

_Traitor…_

Snape was trying to rise, breathing heavily in pain and panic…Harry started running down the hill, but he wasn't as fast as Draco…

Lucius was still shouting, "YOU BELONG TO THE DARK LORD!"

Draco looked up, his gray eyes meeting his father's directly, and said, "Voldemort."

Snape struggled upright with a strangled gasp of, " _No!"_ as Lucius Malfoy's face twisted in final, murderous rage, and Hermione screamed, "OH MY GOD!" and Draco _still_ did not move.

Harry desperately threw a Stunner at Lucius…

It missed, as the man brought his wand to bear in a violent, sweeping motion with a roar of _"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_ that sent a jet of green light directly into his son's heart.

As Snape lunged forward, a bundle of robes tumbled backward into his arms, the weight bearing him to the ground. "No—Draco—" He spared a stunned look up at Lucius Malfoy, who disapparated, still snarling in fury.

Harry reached them, stumbling to a halt and choking on his breath in horror, as Snape turned the limp form over in his arms...

It wasn't like with Cedric. Draco must have closed his eyes at the last second. The moonlight shone on his pale, slack face, as still as if he were sleeping, cradled by Snape…

Harry started shaking as he stood there, helpless, powerless, seeing his teacher staring into thin air with a look in his eyes of such shock, such disbelief, such despair, that it was almost impossible to fathom. Around them, a few curses still flew, the wounded groaned, voices shouted and sometimes screamed, but right then, they were deaf to all of it.

All Harry could do was stand there, staring in horror as Professor Snape's face crumpled to a grimace of agony, and he lifted Draco Malfoy's body slightly in his arms, pressing his forehead to Draco's.

"Harry," breathed a shaky voice.

Harry blinked, and sluggishly turned, and the part of his emotions not shut down in shock flooded with relief: it was Sirius. His godfather stared past him at Snape and Draco and shuddered violently before pulling Harry abruptly into his arms. "Sirius," Harry mumbled, not sure what he wanted to say.

"They…you…" Sirius muttered, trembling almost as badly as Harry. "Inside. Now."

"W-what about…"

"Severus." They turned and looked. Moody was trudging up to them, gruff and quiet. "Severus. We need you off the grounds. There's still fighting."

Snape showed no sign that he had heard, still touching his forehead to Draco's.

"Severus," it was Professor McGonagall now. Tears were sliding down her face. "Come. Let us take him inside."

"No." Everyone jumped. It was the first time Snape had spoken.

"Severus, we need…"

"No." Snape's voice was flat. Unyielding. He raised his head at last, looking savagely at the Headmistress. "I'll carry him."

If there were any doubts about his ability, no one dared to speak, and Sirius clutched Harry so hard it hurt as Snape slowly rose, carrying Draco, and began to walk in silence. Professor McGonagall and several teachers followed.

Sirius and Harry stayed where they were, unable to go with that group, and a rough voice spoke up, "Sirius, we still need you out here. To…finish things up…" It was Tonks, and she was crying.

Sirius shuddered again and gave Harry another squeeze. "Right," he muttered. "Can I…take Harry back first?"

The grounds were mostly quiet again, or at least there were only a few duels still going on. There were still a lot of people moving about, dazedly assisting the wounded and…Draco was dead…and the fights left were on the edges. Moody glanced around and nodded, but said, "Be quick about it. Got a lot to do yet." He scrubbed at his face wearily.

"'Kay," Sirius sighed, turning away. Keeping one arm tight around Harry, he said, "Let's get you inside."

They started walking, up away from all the milling people, toward the door the teachers had used to carry Draco Malfoy's body…Draco Malfoy was dead…into the school. Harry murmured, "Ron and Hermione?"

"They're inside. I saw Remus escorting them when I…" Sirius shook his head. "They're okay," he said, trying to sound reassuring.

An Auror Harry didn't know met them near the door as someone back on the field started yelling at Sirius to hurry up. "We've got him, Black. Get out there. We need you."

Sirius looked as if he wanted to protest, but couldn't find the energy. He sighed, embraced Harry fiercely, and muttered, "I'll be back soon, okay?" He ran a hand through his godson's messy hair, his forehead touching Harry's, before releasing him and jogging back toward the battlefield. Harry felt the Auror put a hand on his shoulder to steer him inside, but stood there for a moment longer, watching his godfather.

Suddenly, Sirius jerked to the right and fell to his knees as he took a hex to his side. Moving faster than Harry would have thought possible, Peter Pettigrew appeared out of the darkness and seized Sirius by the throat, moonlight reflecting off his silver hand.

"Stop!" Harry screamed, bringing his wand to bear on Pettigrew, his feet already moving toward the two men. The prophecy was unfolding in front of his eyes. Frantic to reach Sirius, he was barely aware of the chaos around him. Not Sirius…not Sirius too…

Amidst the noise and chaos, he heard the swift approach of something behind him—something that wasn't human. Before he could turn his head, he was struck by something as hard and solid as a stone wall and flung face-first into the dirt. Instinctively, he kept a firm hold on his wand as he slammed into the ground, then raised his head to see a gigantic form tearing away from him toward Sirius and Pettigrew, a slavering, snarling mass of dark gray. Harry scrambled to his feet, racing towards Sirius, but knowing that Remus would reach them first.

Sirius was sagging in Pettigrew's silver grip, when the Death Eater looked up and saw the huge wolf bearing down on him. Releasing Sirius with a cry of terror, he took a few fumbling steps backward, his eyes glazed over with panic. Without pausing, the wolf landed upon him, and Pettigrew went down screaming under the mass of gray fur.

Harry reached Sirius, who was bent over, making hoarse rasping sounds as he struggled to breathe. He held him upright, keeping his arms around his godfather to support him, and the two stared mutely at the deadly battle taking place in front of them, unable to do anything but watch.

Pettigrew's screams continued, but were nearly drowned out by enraged snarls, as the animal sought to savage the man, and the man fought desperately to destroy the wolf. Grunting and heaving they rolled on the ground in a frenzy, blood spraying from both.

A loud crack sounded as a Death Eater materialized near the fighting pair. Harry spun around, prepared to block a hex, but the Death Eater froze at the sight in front of him, then turned and ran from them in a panic.

Still gasping and wheezing, Sirius grasped Harry's arm. "Remus…stop them…silver…"

Harry broke into a cold sweat as his godfather's meaning became clear. They started forward, when an anguished cry burst from the wolf. Throwing Pettigrew aside, the animal staggered away, seemingly disoriented, then fell.

Sirius staggered to his feet with Harry's help, and they rushed forward, intent on getting to Remus, but found Wormtail's sprawled form, still writhing in pain, blocking their way. Pettigrew was horribly wounded. The wolf's fangs and claws had practically torn him apart. His hands moved feebly over his body, as if he was trying to put himself back together. Harry and Sirius stood over the man, and Harry searched inside himself for some feeling of pity. There was none.

Harry and Sirius started to pass him by, aware that he could no longer harm anyone, but the treacherous man's voice made them pause. "Harry!" he gasped out. "Wait!"

Harry hesitated, startled. "What do you want, Peter?" Sirius said in a harsh voice, keeping his arm around Harry as if to prevent his godson from going closer to the traitor.

"Harry…the debt. I owe you…wizard's debt…" Pettigrew's voice was frantic. "James and Lily…they looked at me."

"You owe me a debt. So what?" Harry spoke coldly.

"Listen," Pettigrew pleaded. "Harry, the Dark Lord…he's afraid of you…afraid of your wand."

"What?" Sirius broke in. "Why the wand?"

"He's afraid of…what happen if…wands meet again…go beyond… _Priori Incantatem_." Pettigrew's breathing was becoming more labored.

"What?" Harry looked from Pettigrew to Sirius in confusion. "Beyond? What's that mean?"

"I don't know…" Pettigrew shuddered. "But…please! Sirius…Harry…forgive me." Pettigrew was gasping now. "I…say you forgive me…please…"

Harry could hear labored breathing coming from not far away. They needed to see to Remus, he thought dully, and from the way Sirius shifted beside him, it was clear his godfather was thinking the same thing. Neither of them spoke.

"Please…" a deep rattle sounded in Pettigrew's throat. Harry and Sirius stood silently as Pettigrew gave another sharp gasp, then lay still.

Then they both turned and left him there.

They reached the dark form, crumpled in agony on the ground. Harry was shaken by what he saw: the wolf was gone. Remus Lupin lay shuddering and bleeding outlined by the moonlight. Sirius turned him gently cradling him in his arms, covering him against the cool air with his outer robe. Harry dropped to his knees beside them, appalled by the severity of the injury. A deep gash extended from Remus's neck, down the length of his chest, and he was bleeding profusely. Such a massive wound, torn by a silver hand…Harry realized what it meant and felt his heart lurch in horror.

Remus took a breath with a painful effort. "Sirius…old friend…"

Sirius's face was ashen. "Easy, Remus. Don't try to talk."

Remus grimaced. "No time. Sirius…take care of…our boy. Take…care…Harry…"

"Oh god," Sirius was crying now. "You don't have to ask. You know I will. But Remus…Remus, don't…" He choked out a violent sob, "Don't leave me, please…don't leave me here!"

Remus nodded, then his body arched in agony as a wave of pain seared through him. Harry reached over and took his hand.

"Harry." Remus's voice was fading. "Harry…"

"I'm right here," Harry's voice cracked.

Remus turned his head to look at him. "Harry," he sighed, seeming to be in a little less pain, and actually smiled. He reached weakly up and touched Harry's face. "Harry, I…love you. So much…know that…"

Harry's breath hitched fiercely. "I know, Remus. I know."

Remus lowered his hand with a sigh, turned his face up to gaze at the full moon above him, and he smiled. "Beautiful…"

It was several seconds before Harry realized that the light in Remus's eyes was just the reflection of the moon. He was gone.

Remus.

Gone.

A wail of anguish broke from Sirius. "God, no!" He was bent over Remus, convulsed with sobs. "Remus…Remus! It wasn't supposed to be you! Remus…no!"

Harry had no idea how long he remained on his knees, stunned, still holding Remus's hand, aware only of the body in front of him, hearing nothing but Sirius's incoherent cries.

O

He saw her from the corner of his eye, kneeling beside Harry with her arms around his shoulders. He knew then that he should turn away; he had to see to Harry, had to keep his promise, had to…

But he did not. He didn't release Remus, not even when Minerva and another Hogwarts teacher pulled Harry to his feet and led him slowly away. Sirius could hear them, as if from a very long distance away, trying to talk to Harry, comfort him, as Sirius knew he himself should be doing…but Harry was silent. He didn't even cry.

The next hour was a dim blur to Sirius, of motion in a haze of shock and grief and stark terror.

_I'm alone._

The Marauders were gone. All gone. He was the only one left. James— _PRONGS!_ —murdered with Lily by Voldemort at the traitorous word of Peter. Peter, mauled to death by Remus, wearing the mark of a Death Eater, and Remus— _REMUSSSS_ —gone too. Dead at Peter's hand beneath the full moon.

_Alone. All alone. They're all gone._

He collapsed more than once in the hour after Minerva took Harry away, and someone always pulled him to his feet. He heard people speaking around him, sometimes to him…someone tried to feed him a Potion once, but he pulled away. He didn't want Potions. There was something he had to do…he'd promised…but he couldn't think. There was a roaring in his ears, a voice screaming in his mind, howling with grief and fear with the knowledge that he, Sirius Black, was the _only…one…left._

_Alone._

He sat with Remus for a long time after he found himself in a cool, quiet room in Hogwarts, with other wizards milling around in the background. He couldn't find the strength to walk away. To go back out into the world…alone.

Until Minerva turned up again and tried to foist a Potion on him. When he pulled away, she fetched him a solid slap on both cheeks, and took advantage of his resulting surprise to force the contents of the vial down his throat. When he stumbled back, sputtering and blinking at her, she said, "That's better. Now, out of here, Sirius Black." Her face softened when she noticed his eyes straying to Remus's body, and she spoke more softly, "You can do nothing more for him here. And you're needed. Go. You know what you must do now."

Trembling as the Restorative Potion forced his mind back to full alertness, awareness of the raw, gaping wound of loss inside him was coupled by knowledge of the last vestige of the Marauders left in this world other than himself.

_Harry._

He had promised. He had promised James, and he had promised Remus. They were gone. All gone.

And now it fell to Sirius, _alone._ Harry was his now. His charge, his responsibility, his purpose.

His child.

_Oh god…James…Remus…_

_I can't do this._

But Minerva was bodily steering him out the door of the makeshift morgue, and before he could voice his fears to her, she had closed the door behind him. And there he stood, the weight of a sudden, awesome, utterly terrifying obligation of caring for another human being bearing down on his shoulders. Alone.

No, not alone.

Against his will, the Potion had restored his awareness of his surroundings, and he suddenly realized someone else was there, just outside the door of the room near the Great Hall where the dead now lay. Someone else who could not bear to step back into reality.

Sirius turned and looked at Snape, who sat motionless in a chair, staring fixedly at the open Great Hall doors where students were now milling listlessly. They must have been sent down from their towers after the battle, to be told of the deaths…

He took a shuddering breath. He had promised. "Sn—" his voice failed, and he swallowed. "Snape." The Potions Master turned a dull gaze toward him. "D'you…know where Harry is?"

The greasy-haired Slytherin made a noise in his throat almost like a sarcastic laugh. His eyes drifted away from Sirius again. In a dark, harsh voice, he replied, "I care nothing about you or yours, Black."

It should have made Sirius angry, that then, even in that hour, Snape was still being a bastard. But he didn't have the energy for anger. He sat down, right on the floor a few feet from Snape's chair, and murmured, "Listen. Hate me if you want. Doesn't matter. But leave Harry alone, he…he's got enough to…deal with. He needs…everyone." There, he'd said it. Snape had done things for Harry that Sirius couldn't. It had just taken this long to admit it.

Apparently, Snape was aware of that, for he turned and looked at Sirius again. Then his shoulders sagged, and he closed his eyes. "I heard about Lupin."

Was that a condolence, Sirius wondered idly. He recalled suddenly from the hazy memories of the morgue, there hadn't only been Remus and Peter's bodies there. There had been another. A third.

_The fallen shall number three…_

"I'm sorry about Draco," he said quietly.

Snape actually shuddered. "Stupid child," he muttered. "I should've known better than to let him around Potter and his ilk for too long." Sirius looked at him in astonishment, but Snape wasn't done. "Boy developed the same penchant for running into places he'd no business being, taking stupid risks, stupid…" he broke off and turned away, shuddering again. And Sirius understood.

_No one thought it would be Draco. Or Remus…_

_Snape_ _and I were ready…we were prepared…why did it have to be…_

"I don't know what to do," he heard himself say. Snape didn't turn back, but he went on weakly, "Remus…I promised him I'd take care of Harry, just like I did with James, but…I don't…don't know if I can do this." Panic tightened his insides again. "Last year, we…came to an understanding…Remus was also the more sensible…it made sense for him to…take care of those sorts of things with Harry…the responsibilities, you know, and…now I…don't know if I can do this."

Snape's voice was steady again, though he remained hunched over in his chair, facing away from Sirius. "You'll get no sympathy from me on that score, Black."

Sirius winced. Snape had a point. _But for the grace of god…_ "I know," he said aloud. "And I'm not…looking for sympathy, I just want…"

Snape finally turned to face him, eyes red-rimmed on his colorless, drawn face, pinning him with a hard gaze. "You want _advice,_ Black?" Sirius didn't answer, but Snape spoke anyway. "Be a man. That would be my recommendation."

Silence hung heavy between them, amid the voices murmuring in low distress from the Great Hall, and the footsteps echoing in the halls, and the noise of hurried movements to and from the Hospital Wing. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Sirius looked down. "Yeah." He took another breath, and dragged himself to his feet. Snape watched him dully, but as he started toward the hall, he paused and looked back. "Yours are still waiting for you in there, you know." Snape stiffened, and he explained awkwardly, "I mean…you're still needed."

Snape was still staring at him when he turned away and went through the Great Hall doors.

Sirius found Harry, Ron, and Hermione with several of their other friends in a corner, trying to separate themselves from the rest of the students. Hermione was crying soundlessly, her head in Ron's lap. Ron's face was puffy with recent and prolonged tears, and Ginny, her eyes very red, was sitting quietly next to Harry, with an arm around him.

Harry, however, had not cried. Sirius was slightly startled to notice that. Harry was solemn, staring at nothing, but there was a calmness about him that was rather unnerving.

With Snape's words echoing in his ears, ( _Be a man,_ ) Sirius crossed the floor, weaving through the stunned students toward his godson. Hermione gasped when she saw him, and sat up, trying to stifle her sobs. Sirius paused by her to squeeze her shoulder, and she broke down again, but Ron hugged her again, so Sirius forced a smile and left them to it. Ginny squeezed his arm as he knelt by her, and he patted her head, then turned his attention to Harry.

Harry blinked at the sight of him. Sirius wasn't sure what to expect, but Harry didn't break down. But his face at last betrayed distress, an improvement over the unnatural calm of before, and he sank willingly into his godfather's outstretched arms with a deep sigh.

Footsteps made him half-turn, still holding Harry, and he saw Neville Longbottom and the Ravenclaw girl—Luna, wasn't it?—that Harry sometimes talked about, coming over to them. Neville's face had a gentle understanding that moved Sirius, as he patted Harry's back, then went to embrace Ron and Hermione, and Luna sat down with an unusually serious expression in her large eyes as she took Ginny's hand.

A murmur went up from some of the students near the Great Hall doors, and they looked to see Severus Snape coming through them. Sirius watched with Harry and his friends as the Potions Master was met by several Slytherins, Blaise Zabini in the lead.

"Professor," they heard the sixth-year boy say. "Is it…true? About Draco?"

The Great Hall was very quiet then, and Snape's low voice could be easily heard as he replied, "I'm afraid so."

Zabini's breath caught, and a surprising number of the younger Slytherins broke down in tears. Snape watched his students for a moment, then said, "Come. The Heads of Houses are ordered to escort their students back to their towers. Slytherins, with me."

As Professor Flitwick also returned and began rounding up the Ravenclaws, Snape led his students back to the doors. Sirius, seeing Minerva also returning, motioned the Gryffindors to their feet, though he kept his arm around Harry, and ushered them off too. They passed close by the Slytherins, and for a brief moment, Sirius's eyes met Snape's.

They both nodded, and led their charges away.


	47. A Phantom Of Many Colors

The days that followed the Third of March were fair and beautiful, filling the air with the glow of spring. But as far as Severus Snape was concerned, the sun no longer had any right to continue shining.

_Draco_ _…_

He had been a fool, to take Draco in. He should have known better. He should have handed him over to Minerva and given her the responsibility of protecting the boy. Since when could Severus Snape ever successfully shelter any child? What right had he to attempt it?

On the third night of the third month, the fallen had numbered three. It seemed nothing short of a miracle there were not more dead, given the scale of the battle, but although the wounded had flooded St. Mungo's, only three had lain in that empty room at Hogwarts when it was over.

Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, the once-best-friends who had slaughtered each other with their own hands.

And Draco Malfoy, murdered in cold blood by his own father.

The headlines of the _Daily Prophet_ blared for days with the horror of the act. Draco had gone from suspect son of a Death Eater to innocent martyr in the wizarding public's eyes, a shift in attitude that Severus would, under any other circumstances, have found highly ironic. But he had no room in his thoughts for irony now. Such emotions only led to more pain. All emotions only led to more pain.

_I was a fool._

Minerva would never have allowed him to resign, so he did not try, but focused his attention on his Slytherins…the ones who were left, at any rate. They had taken Draco's murder hard, particularly Blaise, who when it came right down to it was probably the closest thing Draco had had to a real friend in the complicated, treacherous world of Slytherin politics. So Severus concentrated on him, and Draco's other Housemates, and did what he could to answer their questions and allow them to vent their shock and grief. He found himself wondering if Draco had ever realized, thanks to that same, obscuring veil of caution among Slytherins, how well-regarded he really was.

Probably not. No one else had.

Still, it made the errand Severus had to run a week later somewhat easier, and gave him some more traditional things to say when he arrived at Malfoy Manor.

* * *

 

As he expected, the manor observed all the proper trappings of a house in mourning: the curtains drawn, the wreath upon the door, the lights dimmed, the bowed heads of the servants and house elves as they led Severus into the parlor. The woman in black in the hard-backed chair did not greet him when he entered.

Narcissa Malfoy was a beautiful woman, but Severus had never personally found her particularly appealing. Her smug bearing and lofty disdain has always reminded him too much of James Potter and his ilk. But today, for the first time, he noticed with a trace of irony that Narcissa's beauty was more striking than ever. There was no warmth in her face – that would have simply seemed strange – but for the first time since he'd known her, her gaze was devoid of pretense. There were no airs, no poses, but neither did she carry herself as the tragic, bereaved mother. Rather, her face was devoid of any expression at all.

She did not look at him when he approached and half bowed. "Madam Malfoy."

Her voice was flat, dead. "Why have you come?"

"It was my duty," he replied, and sat without being asked.

A faint smile curved her mouth. "Is that all?"

"For you, yes." He was blunt with her. They had never been friends, even when Severus and Lucius had been close, and Snape no longer had any patience for her.

She knew it, too. "You blame me for not protecting him." He didn't answer. He wasn't there to air grievances, to vent the grief and rage that roared inside him, or to give her the means to do so either. But she was right. He did.

_You. The one above all others he should have been able to count on. He would have been alive if he had someone, anyone, other than me. You. You, his mother. Why did you not come for him?_

To his mild surprise, she seemed to shrink, almost as if she could hear his thoughts. With her eyes closed, she whispered, "Did you truly think I could have protected him?"

"I could have protected him," Severus said coldly, "had he allowed it."

She kept her gaze on the hearth, even though no fire was burning. "I do not mind if you blame me. It's only fair…for I blame you as well."

He had expected an accusation from her…just not quite like this. He had expected more…drama. That would have been easier to bear…he'd rather hoped for it.

_But then…I've learned all too well in the past few days, how dangerous it is to hope. I forgot…a man such as myself has no right to hope. Hope is for those who deserve it._

He wondered how Narcissa would classify that emotion. Then again, it was not as alien to her as it was to him, from what he knew of the Black sisters. They, each of them, had her own idea of what she wanted from life. And each had been determined to achieve it. Bellatrix had coveted power, Andromeda love, Narcissa…wealth. And all the trappings that came with it: social standing, beauty, comfort. And each of the Black sisters had focused single-mindedly on her goal to the exclusion of everything else.

Each of them had got what she wanted. But out of all of them, Severus would not have pegged Narcissa as the weak one. He'd have gambled on Andromeda caving in and seeking more material comforts or a more approved mate. And Bella, Bella had never desired or cared for anything but power. _Of all of them, Narcissa, you were the one who broke your own rule. Never allow anything to distract you from your aim…especially not love._

He couldn't be sure exactly when he realized she valued her child, as something more than a possession, more than the decorations of her status. But it must have been when Draco was small. Like all society mothers, she had paraded him around like a living accessory to her gowns and robes…

_And somewhere in there, you suddenly found that you loved him._

It explained everything about this beautiful woman, sitting silently here, so clearly no longer caring about anything – least of all, herself. She had broken her own rule, forgotten her goal, allowed herself to love, to value, to cherish, and it had destroyed her. She who loved only greed, with a husband who loved only power, she had allowed herself to love her own child. She had loved Draco. Severus had known that before now. And that was why he hated her.

Narcissa Malfoy had loved Draco as much as he had, and that was why he hated her…almost as much as he hated himself.

"You could have saved him," he heard himself say. "You were the one person who could have saved him."

This time she didn't flinch. She met his eyes and replied, "You should never have taken him from Lucius. Did you truly think my husband would have let him live after that?"

Severus was forced to look away. "How long do you think he would have survived in the Dark Lord's service?"

She closed her eyes. "Damn the man."

"Which?" he asked, dryly.

In her eyes, there was a flicker of the old hardness, her familiar coldness. "All of you."

Incredibly, he found himself smiling. To smile was infinitely preferable to the alternative. Her eyes still closed, Narcissa smiled as well. He would never have imagined how much he would end up having in common with the premiere socialite of wizarding Europe. They were still chuckling, without mirth, when a servant entered and said, "Madam, it is twelve o'clock."

She shrank again at hearing this, and Severus went to her and offered his arm. "Shall we, Madam?"

She accepted his help and rose. "Together. It seems appropriate, does it not?"

He knew what she meant. He'd never appreciated her wit before, he mused, as they made their way out of the house. He noticed the servants shuttering the windows and covering the furnishings. Some were carrying suitcases. He glanced at her, and asked, "Where are you going?"

She didn't look at him. "Does it matter?"

He did not answer, and by then, they had reached the main doors of Malfoy Manor. After today, Narcissa Malfoy would depart the house and never be seen again, but in the events that would follow, few would notice, except when remarking on the boarded-up manor house that lay abandoned in Wiltshire.

They came out together, two people who had loved a child and failed him, whose every last hope had perished with him. They walked from the house to the waiting funeral procession together, a slow march of the damned.

* * *

 

It might have seemed odd to some people that Remus Lupin's funeral had more press attending than Draco Malfoy's, until they noticed that Harry Potter was there.

In the days following March third, Harry felt as if he was moving in slow motion, unable to really see or feel what was happening. Hermione cried endlessly, Ron alternated between tears and rages, and Ginny's public silence was belied by her red eyes. She cried when no one else was watching, and Sirius, after that first night of hysterical grief, was stoic between bouts of quiet tears, but seldom let Harry out of his sight.

Professor McGonagall had asked him to take over teaching Defense, and she hadn't had to ask twice. All of Defense class now focused on the battles everyone knew would be coming. The D.A. trained every day. There was no more Quidditch, and even if there had been, no one was in the mood to play anymore. All the joy had gone out of life at Hogwarts.

Sirius was silent at Harry's side, as the funeral for Remus went on. Neither of them had wanted to say anything, so Professor McGonagall spoke of what a good man Remus had been, a good teacher, a loyal friend…a loving parent…

Harry couldn't seem to hear properly after that, and he felt Sirius shaking next to him.

_Parent…Remus…_

_"I love you, Harry…"_

The light of the moon in his eyes… _Remus_ _…_

_"I'm not going anywhere, Harry, never fear…"_

_REMUS!_

People were moving around. Harry blinked. It must be over. He and Sirius didn't move as other witches and wizards filed past the new grave to pay their respects. Mrs. Weasley, weeping softly, on the arm of Mr. Weasley, with Bill, Charlie, the twins, and Percy's ghost behind them…Tonks stood there for several moments, tears sliding silently down her face, before she knelt, touching the smooth stone and the earth around it, then went quickly away. Students whispered things quietly as they went by…Harry heard Neville say, "Thanks, Professor," and others saying they would miss him, that he'd been a good teacher.

 _He could have been our teacher a lot longer, if people hadn't been afraid of him,_ Harry thought, in a burst of anger as he remembered Umbridge and Crouch. _So many things could have been different._

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had just come back, all of them red-eyed from prolonged crying, and hardly anyone else was left. Except the reporters, of course. Harry sighed. He could feel Sirius trembling next to him.

"Harry?" Ron said, quietly. "You want to…."

Harry shook his head, trying to think through the heavy fog in his mind. "Yeah," he murmured.

""Kay. We'll wait for you, mate," said Ron, patting his shoulder lightly.

Sirius stayed where he was, while Harry went slowly to the grave. He stared at the white marble…clean and glowing white, like the moon…and the chiseled word, his name.

_Remus_ _…_

Abruptly, he turned and went away fast. Professor McGonagall caught his arm as he passed her. "Harry, are you sure you don't want a moment longer?"

"Yeah," he managed to say. His throat was dry. "I…okay…."

"Very well," she said, quietly, keeping a hand on his shoulder. "Let us allow your godfather a little while alone, perhaps."

Harry nodded mutely and went over to where Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were waiting for him. "Do you need anymore time, Harry?" Ginny asked. He shook his head, and she put an arm around his shoulders. "C'mon, then."

* * *

 

They walked slowly, Hermione leaning on Ron, and Harry leaning on Ginny. The reporters beyond the gate of the cemetery were calling questions to them, but Harry barely heard it. All he could seem to see was the moon on the grounds that night, and the faces of the people who'd died.

 _Death will surround you,_ Firenze had said. He'd warned Harry. He'd said Harry would be powerless to stop the death, and he'd been right.

It seemed strange to think that only three people had died that night. So much grief, so much pain, so much emptiness and loss…it felt like a lot more. So much happiness had gone away…

"Look," Ginny said suddenly.

Harry turned and saw another group of witches and wizards dressed in black, gathered around a grave. Among them, he recognized Hogwarts students, a lot of them Slytherins.

"It's Draco," Hermione whispered. "It's Draco Malfoy's funeral."

She ws right. At the front of the group closest to the grave, Harry saw a woman, her face hidden by the veil she was wearing, but beside her…Snape. None of them had really expected Snape to come to Remus's funeral, but it was because Draco's funeral was at the same time. The Potions Master's face was hard and expressionless…but he never took his eyes off the grave where Draco was being buried.

The four of them had stopped some distance away, and stood watching silently. Hermione murmured, "It might be nice to…"

"They wouldn't let you come, Hermione," Ginny said sadly.

Blaize Zabini was speaking to Draco's mourners, but they weren't close enough to hear what he was saying. All at once, Ron and Hermione began walking toward the gathering, so Harry and Ginny followed. As Ginny had predicted, a servant spotted Hermione and started toward her, but to everyone's surprise, Draco's mother held up a hand. The servant stopped, confused, and she waved him away, then turned her attention back to the grave as if nothing had happened. As if Hermione Granger's Muggleborn presence didn't matter to her at all. Watching her as they stepped in behind the other mourners, Harry realized nothing mattered to Draco's mother at all. Not anymore.

Zabini resumed speaking. "He was…the best friend I ever had…I'll miss his sense of humor, and the way he…talked about Quidditch all the time, and…he was just…" The Slytherin boy seemed to be struggling for words. "A good friend." Blaize finished in a whisper and hurriedly left.

Snape and Mrs. Malfoy were the first ones to file past Draco's grave, and the first to leave. Harry and his friends stayed to the back until everyone else had gone. Blaize saw them and paused as if he wanted to say something, but suddenly thought better of it and left. Finally, the four of them were the only ones left at Draco Malfoy's grave.

Harry wondered what Snape thought about what Draco had done. No doubt he blamed himself. Draco had died to save him. But was that really Snape's fault?

_"You with your friends and your family…he's all I have!"_

_If Draco had had someone else, anyone…he wouldn't have done what he did,_ Harry thought. _If he'd had other…friends._

His mind went back over the last few months, when Draco had been at Headquarters. There'd been that Dreamless Sleep Potion, and the Quidditch game at Christmas, but..none of them had ever tried to be Draco Malfoy's friends. Would he have…accepted them? If they'd tried?

 _There really no way to know now, is there?_ he thought. But the thoughts wouldn't stop. _We were a lot alike, you and me,_ he mused, thinking about the way their lives had gone. _Never really had a choice about…your father. Well, you did more than me, but you had no way to know, and I guess in all…we were both pawns. Getting used by people…not having control. I know what that's like, being scared, and being not wanted._ He took a deep breath. _I wish I'd told you._

He turned and walked away, but Ron and Hermione each went a little closer to Draco's grave. Harry distinctly heard Ron say quietly, "Good game, Malfoy."

Hermione lingered longer still, but when she finally turned away, she had only said one word: "Bye."

* * *

 

The Ministry had at last roused to real action, and under the determined leadership of Madam Bones, they stayed in almost non-stop, round-the-clock sessions, passing restrictions that prevented known or suspected Death Eaters from having access to their bank accounts, trying to cut off financial support to Voldemort's army. The _Daily Prophet_ was in its heyday, issues now being published twice a day, with special editions following frequently, to be snatched up as soon as they appeared. The terrified public was news-mad. And the words of Harry Potter, once presented as subjects of ridicule, were now accepted as the absolute authority on any and every aspect of the wizard war. If Harry and his friends hadn't been so preoccupied, they might have remarked on the irony of it all.

One interesting thing was that even though people still feared to openly deride He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, they apparently had no such reservations about his minions. Editorials and articles alike were united in a vilification of Lucius Malfoy. He was revealed as the ultimate villain, a pure-blood wizard, patriarch of one of the oldest wizarding families, who had so cast off his own sense of honor and duty, that he had become capable of committing the ultimate atrocity – murdering his own son. The shock reverberated throughout the wizarding world, and many pure-blood families now recoiled from their previous half-hearted support of Voldemort and threw themselves on the mercy of the Ministry.

The reaction was no less intense within the walls of Hogwarts itself. The students supported by all the teachers now made preparing for the final battle as high a priority as studying for OWLs or NEWTs. With the permission of the Headmistress, D.A. practice was now openly taking place in the Great Hall to accommodate the increased number of students involved. Almost every student from Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw, had enlisted in the D.A. The younger classes were being taught defensive spells and magical first aid, while the older classes, especially the sixth and seventh year students, were emphasizing increasingly difficult offensive skills. On any given night, the Great Hall, emptied of its tables, rang with the shouts of combat, as spells and hexes were fired from all areas of the room. Professor Black worked with the seventh years, enabling him to stay close to Harry, while Professors McGonagall and Flitwick coached the other classes.

"Harry!" Sirius called, from where he was instructing Hermione on the Crystal Ball Shield. "You're still going wide on that Blinding Hex. Bring your hand a little more to the right when you arc your wand. You need a focused aim."

"Okay. Got it." Harry tried the motion again. The hex shot straight from his wand, sending Ron staggering backward and rubbing his eyes.

"Right on target," said Ron. "Can't see a thing. Cancel it and let me have a go."

Harry moved several paces back and raised his wand, when the doors to the Great Hall suddenly swung open. The room went silent, and students moved away hurriedly as a large group of Slytherins, led by Blaze Zabini, entered the room. Zabini stopped, and the other Slytherins formed up behind him as he looked around the room, a defiant sneer on his face. Those DA members who didn't already have their wands drawn surreptitiously pulled them out.

The status of the Slytherins in general had been a subject of much debate since the attack on Hogwarts. Many of the students had parents who were believed to be Death Eaters, and Slytherin House had always been considered a bastion of loyalty to the Dark Lord. Since the attack, there appeared to be a considerable dissension among the members of the house. Arguments were frequent, some students had broken down in tears, others vanished altogether, and rumors had spread that some of the Slytherins had defied their parents and been subsequently disowned.

Zabini turned his head, as the dark figure of Severus Snape entered the hall behind them. Snape stopped along side Zabini, and gave him a curt nod. Zabini turned back to his scrutiny of the room, and when his eyes met Harry's, he started forward. Harry went to meet him, followed closely by Ron. Hermione and Sirius joined them and they met Zabini in the middle of the hall.

"You still heading up the D.A., Potter?" Zabini inquired.

"Yeah, more or less," Harry replied.

Zabini nodded. His eyes drifted around the other students who had paused from practicing, then met Harry's again, hard and determined. "We want in."

Harry considered him carefully. "All of you?"

"Yeah." Zabini motioned to the group of Slytherins, and they moved to join him.

"You'll take instruction where it's given," Sirius told them, motioning Harry aside. "And you'll accept whoever you're partnered with – half-blood, Muggleborn, whatever. Is that clear?"

Zabini nodded, and the other Slytherins followed suit.

"All right, then," Harry said with a shrug. "You're in."

Sirius proceeded to separate out the Slytherins, sending them to partner with various other students. Finally, he teamed Zabini with Hermione.

Ron grumbled at that, and Harry cuffed him. "C'mon, let's get back to work. She can hold her own."

* * *

The D.A. became the focal point for interaction between the four houses. Tensions frequently ran high, especially where the Slytherins were concerned, but between the professors and the senior DA members, order was maintained, and the high intensity of instruction and practice continued uninterrupted.

 

School-wide drills were added, and Harry was pleased with the results. At any time during the day or night, Professor McGonagall's voice would echo through the castle. "Everyone to your stations, please; this is a drill." Fifth years from each house would gather the younger students into their common rooms; sixth years, accompanied by Professors Flitwick, Sinistra, and Sprout, took up defensive positions at the smaller, lesser-used entrances to the school; seventh years followed Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Black to the main entrance of the castle, prepared to meet an all-out assault. The drills generally ran smoothly, as procedures and instructions were reinforced at each D.A. meeting.

It happened during dinner a few days later. Ron was moaning to Hermione about the length of the Transfiguration essay assigned by Professor McGonagall. Neville was displaying the star-shaped blue rash on his arms to Luna and Ginny.

"It's from the Common Perphylia plant; Professor Sprout and I have been harvesting them in the back greenhouse all morning," Neville said.

"It looks painful," Ginny declared. "Does it hurt?"

"No," Neville replied. "But it'll keep turning colors until it finally fades out." He scratched, and under his nails, the rash turned bright green. "And it itches like mad."

"Why did you want to harvest them?" Luna asked dreamily.

"For Professor Snape. He uses them in a burn salve."

Hermione turned from her conversation with Ron. "That's a compliment to you, Neville. Professor Snape only uses the best plants for his ingredients. I hear that it's a fertilizer that you've developed that has made them produce so well."

Neville flushed, and Harry grinned, glad to see Neville getting credit for his work. "What's in it?" he asked.

"Honey, onion, spicy grukkus, soy…" Neville recited.

"Blimey," Ron exclaimed. "Is this a fertilizer or a marinade?"

Neville considered the question for a moment, then replied seriously, "You know, it would probably work as both."

They all burst into laughter. "Really, Neville," Ginny exclaimed, "why don't you…"

The doors to the Great Hall burst open, and Filch came running in, followed by two Aurors that Harry didn't recognize. They went straight to the head table, and whatever they had to report brought the professors to their feet.

"Students," Professor McGonagall's voice rang through the Great Hall. "All of you to your stations, please, at once."

Harry slid from the bench and intercepted Sirius as he followed Snape up the aisle. "Sirius?"

He paused long enough to pull Harry into a quick hug. "Hogsmeade is under attack. Don't know if they're headed for Hogwarts or not. Snape and I are going over there to help."

"Black!" Snape shouted from the doorway. "Let's go!"

"Be careful," Harry managed to croak out, then Sirius was gone with Snape and the Aurors.

The seventh years in the entrance hall were taking their positions, and Harry joined Hermione and Ron. "Did Sirius say what's up?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. Hogsmeade." Harry saw all the color drain from Ron's face.

Hermione grabbed his arm. "Ron…" Her voice trailed off. Harry remained silent. What could he possibly say? High above them, the Hogwarts clock tolled one.

The hours dragged by, each one seemingly longer than the previous one, each one interminable. Professor McGonagall paced in the entryway. At intervals, an owl would appear, offer her its missive, then depart again in the direction of Hogsmeade. She would then announce the contents of the note.

"Hogsmeade is under attack by a large force of Death Eaters."

"Heavy damage, many structures in flames."

"Auror reinforcements arriving."

Then nothing came in for awhile. The ghost of Percy Weasley hovered above the hall, keeping watch out of the highest windows. Occasionally, he would drift down to exchange words with Professor McGonagall or to speak quietly with Ron. The clock tolled four, and Percy's ghost swung around. "Professor! Owl coming in!"

Upon receiving the message, Professor McGonagall's shoulders slumped for just a moment, then she straightened up and turned to the assembled seventh years. "Death Eaters withdrawing. Prepare for casualties." Her eyes swept the group. "Neville Longbottom, take the message to Madam Pomfrey and remain to assist. Miss Mills and Mr. Stafford, go with Mr. Longbottom." A Hufflepuff girl and a Ravenclaw boy took off after Neville.

Within a short time, figures began appearing on the grounds – Aurors helping injured Hogsmeade residents towards the castle – some walking, a few being carried on stretchers. On Professor McGonagall's instructions, the students hurried out to assist. Hermione took a small girl from the arms of an Auror, who shook his head at her. "Her ankle's broken. Couldn't find her parents." Hermione spoke softly to the toddler, who seemed to be stunned, and hurried off towards the infirmary with her.

"Ron! Ron!" Harry and Ron spun around to see Ginny running towards them. Out of breath, she clung to Ron's arm and gasped out, "Fred…George…any word?"

"Not yet," Ron responded grimly. Ginny shivered, and her brother pulled her into his arms. "Hang on, Gin."

"Sirius!" Harry sprinted toward two figures that had appeared from the Hogsmeade path, Ron and Ginny close behind him. A wobbly Sirius Black was being supported by Madam Rosmerta, a blood-stained makeshift bandage tied to his head. "You're hurt!" He took Sirius's free arm while Ron took the other, and Ginny stepped forward to support Madam Rosmerta, who was looking rather worse for wear – her skirt torn, her face and clothes soot-stained. "What happened?"

"They torched the Three Broomsticks," Madam Rosmerta said bitterly. "Left me to die inside." Ginny hissed. "I got out by the back alley, but someone grabbed me."

"Oh, hell," Sirius groaned. "Never try to help a damsel in distress."

"Well, how was I supposed to know it was you?" she exclaimed.

"What?" Harry stared at them.

"She coshed me with a bottle of firewhiskey," Sirius explained. They both laughed at the sheepish expression on his face.

Ron broke in. "Did either of you see the twins anywhere?"

Sirius started to shake his head, then winced. "Afraid not. I was out for most of the battle. Rosie?"

"No, not anywhere near us." Madam Rosmerta smiled at Ginny's anxious expression. "Don't worry, love. Those two are more than a match for anybody, and it's still chaos down there. They'll be along once the casualties are out."

Harry and Ron helped Sirius into the infirmary, and Healers directed them to the area where the less seriously wounded were being treated. Ginny followed with Madam Rosmerta. Feeling as if he was leaving Sirius in good hands, Harry joined Ron and Ginny in questioning Aurors and Hogsmeade residents in the infirmary about the whereabouts of the twins. They received only negative replies. Then they heard the screaming.

"Get off! Let me go!" Someone was yelling frantically. "I can find him! I can follow them!"

"That's Fred!" Ron grabbed Ginny arm, and they headed back towards the doors.

Fred was kicking and fighting, being half-dragged, half-carried by Moody and Snape. Harry could see that Fred was injured. There was blood on his face and he was favoring his leg, but Fred himself did not appear to care.

Harry ran to help Snape, Moody, and Fred's siblings as they tried to calm him down.

Moody grunted at Fred. "It's over, Weasley. They're gone."

But Fred continued to flail, trying to break free. "Let me go after them!"

Snape snarled," Bloody hell, Weasley, if you don't…" He was cut off by a random clout across his chin and staggered back.

"Blast it, Snape," Moody roared. "Some help here!"

"Fine." Snape drew his wand and aimed it at Fred. " _Stupefy_." Fred collapsed in Moody's arms.

Percy's ghost appeared beside them. "What the hell happened?"

Ginny looked around. "Where's George?"

Moody and Snape looked at each other; Ron and Ginny froze. Harry held his breath. "The raiders took prisoners," Snape said. "We think Mundungus Fletcher was captured too."

The temperature of the room suddenly dropped. Percy's ghost said, "George?"

"Missing," Moody replied gruffly. "Some of the bodies in Hogsmeade haven't been identified yet, but if he's not there, they've taken him."

Harry's stomach began to spin, and he felt as if he might throw up.

Ginny said in a trembling voice. "So…he…might still be alive?"

Moody responded in a gruff, quiet voice. "Better pray that he's not, girl. If he's been taken, he's better off dead."

Ginny swayed, and Harry leaped forward to hold her up. Still holding the unconscious Fred, Ron breathed, "Oh, no…no!"

An inhuman, tormented wail made everyone in the infirmary recoil in fright, and a blast of frigid air whipped through the room as Percy's ghost shot through the ceiling.

Harry kept his arms around Ginny, as she sank to the floor, making faint whimpering noises. She turned her face and buried it in his chest. Ron helped Moody and Snape get Fred into one of the beds, and sat down beside him, his face grey and slack with shock. Sirius, back from being treated by the Healers, put his arms around Harry and Ginny. Quietly, he said, "We should send for Molly and Arthur."

Snape scrubbed at his face tiredly. "Right."

"I'll take care of it," Sirius said. He turned to Harry, who was still holding Ginny, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you going to be okay if I…" He nodded toward the door.

Harry took a shaky breath. "Yeah." Sirius squeezed his shoulder, brushed a hand over his hair, and quietly went out.

Ginny still hadn't spoken. She just clung to Harry and moaned. Harry didn't know what to say to her and wasn't sure that she'd hear him anyway. He rested his cheek against her hair and held her.

* * *

 

By that night, Hogsmeade had been thoroughly searched. Eleven people were dead, among them the owner of the Quidditch Supply Store and Mr. Zonko. All the wounded were either at Hogwarts or St. Mungo's. Sirius had returned with the rest of the Weasleys to wait for news. By midnight, everyone was accounted for, and the witnesses to the battle confirmed that six people had been captured by the Death Eaters: four Aurors, Mundungus Fletcher, and George Weasley.

"Poor devils," Moody muttered, as Mrs. Weasley sobbed in Sirius's arms.

Professor McGonagall was holding Mr. Weasley's hands in hers. "Arthur, you understand that there is no way for us to…"

Trembling, his head bowed, Mr. Weasley murmured, "I know. I know."

Ginny had been transferred to Bill's arms, and he was holding her as she cried. Tears slid down the eldest Weasley's face, as he looked at the Headmistress. "He's gone?" She nodded.

Watching them, Harry had passed through shock and horror into a strange numbness. He got to his feet and made his way slowly, on leaden legs, out of the hospital wing.

* * *

 

Returning from Hogsmeade after midnight, Severus Snape wanted nothing more than a large glass of firewhiskey. Or two. Followed by a dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion. But as he left the Hogsmeade path, he spied a solitary figure, too small to be an Auror or a Death Eater, moving across the grounds towards the Whomping Willow. Swearing under his breath, Severus detoured to intercept him.

By the time he reached the tree, the wayward student had vanished, but Severus was well aware of where he'd gone. A few minutes later, when he emerged into the Shrieking Shack, he found Harry Potter sitting quietly in a dilapidated old chair.

He crossed his arms. "Well, Potter? If you're in the mood to break things up, this is the place to be. Lupin made a habit of it every month."

The boy didn't look at him. "I just wanted to be alone," he muttered.

"There are plenty of places to be alone – in the castle," Snape informed him. Harry didn't answer. "Are you all right?"

"What does it matter?" the boy said faintly.

Snape walked over to him and laid a hand on his forehead. Not ill – but not right either.

Harry said, "George is gone. They say he's as good as dead."

"I know," said Snape.

"People are just going to keep dying." Harry closed his eyes.

"That is the usual result of war," Snape said, watching the boy carefully. Potter appeared on the edge of another breakdown.

So what he said next was the last thing Snape expected to hear. "I need to end it. It's time for me to fight him."

Snape just stared at him, surprised. "Don't be ridiculous."

Harry finally looked up at him. "You've heard the prophecy. I have to do it."

Snape said," And at the moment, you're on the verge of collapse. He could kill you in his sleep." Harry grimaced. Snape went on, "I have observed you for the last week, Potter. You haven't shed a tear for Lupin and the others. You haven't been sleeping. If you continue in this state, you'll be in no shape to fight anyone."

Harry hesitated. "Remus..." He shivered. "I can't…not yet…I have to…"

Snape cut him off. "What you have to do, Harry, is prepare yourself. You not only have to fight him, you have to _win_."

Harry chuckled. "Good point." When he looked at Snape again, his eyes were clearer. "Do you think…when it's time…should I do it alone?"

Snape fixed him with a sardonic grin. "Do you really think any of us would permit that?"

Harry smiled, but sighed, "I don't want any more of you to die."

"If you don't win this battle, we are all doomed anyway. And for the rest of us, the Dark Lord is not the only enemy."

Harry caught the dark tone of his words and nodded. "I guess it'll be a big battle then."

Snape nodded. "Before we can think of arranging such a thing, you must be ready. Which means you must look to your own well-being."

Harry got slowly to his feet. "Yeah." He started toward the door, and Snape had to grab him as he swayed.

"To begin with, I suggest you get some sleep." Putting an arm around Harry to steady him, he walked him out of the Shrieking Shack and back to the castle.

* * *

 

A few days later, Harry had to admit Snape had been right. After a few nights of judiciously ingested Dreamless Sleep Potion, Harry felt at least physically able to face the world again. Not that the world was especially appealing. Fred was no longer sedated in the hospital wing, but applied himselfto whatever jobs the Order gave him and never said a word. Ginny and Ron had thrown themselves into DA practice and barely thought of anything else, except when one or the other of them would break down in furious sobs. Hermione spent all her time organizing and drilling the students in Harry's defense strategies and Madam Pomfrey's first aid magic. Everyone knew it was only a question of when the next attack would come. There had been another in Diagon Alley, but no civilians had been hurt, because no one went out anymore.

Finally, at the appointed time, over the half-formed protests of Sirius and the elder Weasleys, Harry and Professor Snape made their way to the Room of Requirement.

Outside the door, Harry paused. Snape stopped with him. "Are you ready?"

Harry nodded, and looked up at him. "I _am_ scared, you know."

For a moment, Snape was silent, and then he said," I would be more concerned for our side if you were not."

Harry took a deep breath, opened the door and went in. One entire wall of the Room of Requirement was a mirror. Snape faltered. He obviously hadn't known what to expect. Harry positioned himself in front of the center of the mirror, then glanced back over his shoulder. "Maybe he shouldn't know you're here."

Snape replied, "He will be more inclined to accept that he is truly being challenged, if he sees that you are being backed. He knows our way of fighting. Besides, I _want_ him to know I am with you."

Watching Snape in the mirror, Harry smiled at him. "Thanks."

Then Harry focused attention on his own reflection. As with last year, he concentrated on his scar, staring at it, and then through it, until within the reflection of his eyes, he detected a gaze, not only his own. Unfamiliar thoughts seem to rise up from the back of his mind, drawing his gaze to his own reflection again. He was vaguely aware of Snape sucking in his breath. Behind the green eyes in the reflection was something else. Something with red eyes. It was not on the surface, but it was there – a presence.

It made him dizzy, trying to keep his mind under his own control. He knew the other was enraged at his presumption, and wanted to punish him for it, but in the past year, Harry's control over his own mind had grown stronger, and he managed to focus through two sets of thoughts on what he had come to say.

"It's time," he said slowly, his voice sounding strange in his ears. The creature inside his mind seemed to pause, curious, almost eager. "We both know it's a stalemate until…you and I…end it." He took a deep breath, shakily. "At the cemetery where you took my blood…meet me there. Tomorrow."

It agreed. It was amused. It did not see its agreement as giving in to Harry, but rather indulging him in a last fancy. It expected to win. It expected Harry to die tomorrow.

"One of us will," Harry agreed. Then he let go, and the presence withdrew, making him sway forward, as if a pair of ghostly arms that had been holding him very tight had suddenly let him go. He put his hands on the mirror to steady himself, then turned around.

Snape's face was paler than usual, and he was watching Harry with a great deal of apprehension. As Harry turned towards him, he took a reflexive step backwards.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked in surprise, still feeling drained.

Snape shook his head, as if to remind himself that Harry Potter held no fear for him, and said curtly, "Nothing. Are you all right?"

"Sure," Harry said faintly, but all energy seemed to be draining out of him, and his legs buckled. Snape caught him as he sagged, and he tried to say he was okay, but all that came out was an incoherent mumble into Snape's shoulder.

He must have faded out, because the next thing he knew, there was a pillow underneath his head, and he found himself still in the Room of Requirement, but in a bed that hadn't been there before. Snape was checking his pulse. "Contacting him mentally has obviously had an adverse effect."

"S'okay," Harry said weakly. "Happened last time too."

Snape froze in the act of feeling his forehead and stared. "What last time?"

Harry sheepishly remembered he'd never told anyone about that. "I did it once last year after Frimby Park."

Looking at him incredulously, Snape demanded, "Why?"

With a shrug, Harry replied, "I was mad. I wanted to….I guess…tell him off."

Very slowly, Snape repeated, "Tell…him…off?" When Harry nodded, he looked away for a moment, then made a quiet noise in his throat. Harry realized with astonishment that Snape was chuckling. "Gryffindors."

Harry had to laugh too, or he would have, if his head hadn't throbbed in protest. At Snape's concerned reaction, he said, "It's not too bad – just aches."

Snape summoned Dobby and had him bring one of the stronger brews of Headache Potion made especially for Harry. Once the headache was taken care of, Harry just felt tired. "You had best get some rest," Snape told him, and Harry woke from a doze to find Sirius in the room muttering with Snape over in front of the fire.

Sirius came over and sat at his bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"Not much up to a bloody battle," Harry said with a weak smile.

Sirius grinned. "Neither are any of us, come to think of it. What say we just call the whole thing off?"

Harry snorted. "Fine. You ask him for a postponement." Sirius just ruffled his hair, and he grinned drowsily. "Is the Order ready?"

"As ready as we'll ever be," said Sirius. He ruffled Harry's hair again, this time more slowly. "Get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."

Harry smiled, and closed his eyes. His godfather's touch lulling him back towards sleep, he heard Snape say, "Brilliant insight, Black." Sirius responded with something sarcastic and vaguely obscene, but Harry didn't stay awake to hear much more.

* * *

 

The next morning, Hogwarts was full of tension even before the sun rose. No one was asleep. Everyone knew the war would end today, one way or the other. There had been no keeping that a secret. Aurors, Ministry wizards, and Order members moved purposefully through the halls, organizing groups of students.

"Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years, assist Miss Collins and Mr. Banks in the hospital wing!"

"Third year Ravenclaws and Slytherins to the Potions lab!"

"Fourth years with Mr. Filch. Argus, get them on the towers and the Owlery. We're going to need message relays."

"Yes, ma'am, Headmistress! All right, you lot, follow me!"

"D.A., report to your team leaders! We're moving out from stations."

Madam Pomfrey and entire teams of Healers had gathered in the hospital wing, assembling great stores of Potions, and preparing beds, talking in agitated voices about overflow rooms and triage teams.

"Healer Churchill, where do you want these sheets?"

"Take those to the dungeon cold room."

"You're moving overflow down there?"

"No, that's the morgue."

The Great Hall had been converted into a staging area of sorts. Order members and Aurors and teachers swarmed the place, along with the D.A. and parents who had come to help out. People were so busy and anxious that many didn't even notice Harry when he came near, and those who did had little time to do more than whisper a quick greeting or encouragement, or to touch him as he passed.

Hermione and Ginny were with Professor Smythe-Wellington and several others crowded around a map talking about entry points when Harry arrived, and the two girls broke away to hug him fiercely. "How're you feeling?" Hermione asked.

"All right," he said with a shrug. "You?" She shrugged in return. "Where's Ron?"

"He's with Blaise, talking teams. Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout want Neville and Luna here with the Healers, but Ron and Blaise say they're too important as fighters, so they're seeing about that," said Ginny.

"Hermione, have we got somewhere we could practice the Pulse Hex?" asked a breathless Ravenclaw sixth year Harry didn't recognize.

Hermione frowned, but Ron shouted to them, "No more practicing, Adam. Just stick to hexes you're most familiar with."

"He's right," Harry agreed, and Adam looked at him with wide eyes, as if he'd suddenly given a very strong order. "All that matters when you throw a hex out there is that it works to take them down. Even a Stunner will do the trick better than one you're not sure of."

"Right," Adam gasped, and scurried away.

Harry blinked. "Am I scary or something?"

"It's called respect, Potter," said Smythe-Wellington, coming over to him. "Everything should be ready within the hour. We'll be at Little Hangleton by dawn."

Harry nodded, gazing around the bustling Great Hall. "Okay," he said quietly. "But there's something I have to do first."

* * *

 

The sky was just growing pink and gold with dawn when Harry walked alone on the edge of a deserted meadow. Dew sparkled over the grass and the tombstones of the cemetery, nestled forgotten in the countryside. The air was cool with spring, and birdsong was beginning to lilt over the trees. He made his way among the stones, following a direction Sirius had given him, until he stopped in front of one of them that had a morning glory crawling up its side, white blooms bright against the gray stone.

_JAMES POTTER…LILY POTTER_

_Beloved Parents…_

Harry felt like he ought to say something; he ought to have done this a long time ago. But on the few occasions when it had occurred to him, there had always been some crisis or another, keeping him away.

But he had to come today. Otherwise he might never get the chance.

He knelt down and brushed a dead strand of vine off his mother's name, running his fingertips down the cold marble, damp with dew. He pressed his hands against it, above each of their names, trying to quell the trembling inside him.

 _Everyone's seen you but me,_ he thought. He'd passed feeling resentful for it, but now just felt sad. _I wish I could have._ He'd spent a long time this morning looking at Hagrid's photo album. He took a deep breath. _I'm scared. I'm trying not to be, but… I guess if it all goes wrong, I might get to see you today._ He breathed in again, his chest tight.

"Whatever happens…" he whispered. "I've done my best. I hope…hope it's enough. And I hope I've…done right…by you, by what you did for me." He gripped the top of the stone once more. "I wanted it to be here. It seemed right somehow. I'll…I'll try, I'll…do my best."

Then he got to his feet and walked away.

Back in the meadow, a few hundred yards from the cemetery, the Order and all their allies were waiting for him. Harry moved to the back, where the D.A. was gathered, and Sirius joined him. "Ready?" he asked quietly.

Harry nodded.

Smythe-Wellington and Moody came back to them. "Good thinking, coming here instead," Moody said approvingly. "Keeps 'em from setting a trap for us at Hangleton."

"That was the idea," said Snape. "We would have been fools to give them twenty-four hours notice of the real location."

"How soon do you think he'll know to come here?" Blaise asked, looking at the brightening sky.

"Probably not long," Harry replied. He gazed out over the field. Their side looked powerful now, with hundreds of people in red Aurors' robes, (even non-Aurors had been given red robes to prevent confusion in the battle), spread out over the grass. Behind the fighters were groups of Healers, daring the dangers of the battlefield to care quickly for the wounded before moving them away.

Harry himself was in the middle, to the back of the Order's forces. "You don't put your best people on the front lines," Moody had said.

So there they were, _behind_ everyone else. "Maybe the strategy makes sense," Ron said to Blaise. "But you can't see a bloody thing!"

"Will soon enough," Ginny growled. "COLLINS!" A fifth year Slytherin girl among the Healers paused and turned around, with an armful of bandages, raising her eyebrows. "Keep your eyes open, eh? Don't think Death Eaters won't try to have you lot for breakfast if they can!"

"Very reassuring, Weasley!"

"Aye, love, regular inspiration, you are!"

"Glad someone can stay in a good mood around here," said Sirius, putting his hands on Harry's shoulders. "You ready?"

"Still ready," Harry replied, forcing a smile.

Sirius blinked, then chuckled sheepishly and pulled him into a hug. They stayed that way for several minutes. "I'm proud of you, you know?" Harry nodded into his chest. "Remus, your Mum and Dad…they'd all be proud of you. Couldn't be prouder." Taking Harry's face in his hands, he pressed their foreheads together. "Look after yourself, if we get…separated…"

"You too," Harry murmured. "Don't do anything fun." Sirius laughed shakily into his hair.

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly. The two of them looked up, and followed her gaze—and everyone else's—to the edge of the meadow.

Figures were gathering there, a mass of black robes and white masks that grew larger and larger with each passing moment. Sirius's arms tightened around Harry, his heart beating against Harry's arm. The Aurors and the Order had grown very quiet, and what whispers there were had become tense and urgent.

"This is it," Harry said quietly. Moody and Snape were coming toward them, motioning to Sirius. "I…Sirius, I…"

His godfather stared into his eyes, then leaned forward and whispered into his ear, before letting him go. Then Harry felt his scar burn, heard the shouts of alarm from the front of the Order lines, and turned to face the battlefield.


	48. Amare Et Bellum

"Potter." Harry broke away from Sirius and turned to face Snape. The Potions Master reached inside his robe and pulled out an amulet, which he slipped around Harry's neck. "It ought to provide at least some protection."

"Thanks," Harry said, keeping a wary eye on the advancing Death Eater lines. He couldn't see Voldemort yet, but he was definitely there…somewhere. Snape was still looking at him, with a peculiar expression on his face, when they both noticed Sirius, Hermione, and the Weasleys standing in a circle around them, holding hands. "What're you…"

The group came closer to him, and Ron patted his arm. "Just trying to add to it a bit." They heard shouts from the front of the group, and the first curse lights began to flash. "Looks like this is it, mate," he said quietly. Harry nodded. "Don't get killed, okay?"

"You too," Harry replied, trying and failing to muster a smile. The noise from the front lines was growing, along with the fluttery feeling in his chest. _I can do this…I can…we can…just be calm…_

"You lot better get into position," said Bill, dropping a quick kiss onto Ginny's forehead. "It's heating up fast."

"Right," Ron said a little breathlessly, and turned around. "D.A.! FORM UP! C'mon, mate, we're all on 'you' duty."

That made smiling a little easier as the D.A. gathered into tight groups around Harry, all eyes darting warily toward the growing chaos some yards in front of them. "Just remember," Harry cautioned them. "If Voldemort comes at me, get out of the way FAST."

"Aye-aye!" said Zabini. "But anybody else, we get to hex their lights out. Remember your drills, people! Back each other!"

Behind them, Harry could hear the chanting of several groups of Aurors and Ministry wizards casting various temporary wards over the Order lines to keep Death Eaters from apparating in or using some of the nastier long-distance spells against them. It was all going to be face-to-face fighting. Collin Creevy was standing next to Fred Weasley, watching the front lines like a hawk and muttering to the others of what he saw.

"Smythe-Wellington's team is holding its own…Williamson's down, but Snetterton's squad's moved in…blimey, Triston's squad's overrun; they're buckling bad on the west end…we're going to have them coming at us from there pretty soon, Harry."

"I see it," Harry said. "Fred, you all right?"

Fred nodded, not taking his eyes off the Death Eaters. Mrs. Weasley had protested letting him take part in the battle, but the remaining Weasley twin had stubbornly refused any suggestions against it. Harry couldn't blame him, but he feared Fred's desire for revenge of his twin's loss would make him too reckless.

There was a dazzling flash near the weakest point of the Order lines that brought them all up sharp, causing yelps of alarm from the Healer squads in back. "There he is," muttered someone.

Voldemort too was hanging back from the front lines of his army, but he was causing quite enough damage even from that distance; he'd just taken out about half a dozen Aurors. Moody was trying to lead over reinforcements, but other Death Eaters were keeping them engaged.

"I think it's time for us to get into it," Harry murmured.

"Think you're right," said Ron. "If we don't want them getting close to the Healers. We could at least shake things up." He nodded to the D.A. ranks, which were composed of almost fifty students. "Ready, then?"

"Yeah," Harry said, feeling a tightness in his chest, although the shaky feeling had gone.

"Your army, mate. Give the word."

Zabini nodded to the buckling lines. "What say we hit them on the east side? Give Moody and the others a chance to send reinforcements to the trouble spot?"

"Good point. The experienced people should be down there," Harry said. He took a deep breath. "Here we go. Let's hit them fast, between Moody's group and Snetterton's group."

"Right-o," said Blaise, and stepped ahead of them. "D.A. SQUADS, TO ME! KEEP IN FORMATION!"

And Harry charged forward with the rest of them.

* * *

 

It didn't take them long to get into the fray. Even before they reached the front, they let loose longer-range curses to sail over the Aurors' heads, hoping to take a few Death Eaters by surprise. It must have worked, because Moody sent several squads breaking away and sprinting like mad to reinforce the area to the west side of the field where the Order was sustaining the most casualties.

"Green Team, move up!" Ron bellowed. "Keep Harry covered!"

Green light flashed nearby, and many of them ducked. "Don't pack too close; they're using Killing Curses!" Hermione warned. Several teams of Healers were moving carefully behind them, trying to reach the wounded.

The hexes increased as they got closer to the front, streaks of colored light piercing the air around them, and forced them to spread out a little more. "Yellow Team, hover those wounded to the back!" Blaise yelled, and Seamus Finnegan's group split away to obey. Neville and Dean's team moved forward to fill in the space.

Snape and Sirius were just ahead of them as they reached the very front of the fighting. Death Eaters swarmed toward them, and the two men were soon back-to-back, moving in a slow circle and sending hexes flying in every direction, so that hardly anything in a black robe got anywhere near them.

"BLUE TEAM, INCOMING!" Blaise roared. "SHIELDS!"

As jinxes impacted against an array of hastily-conjured Shields on Harry's left, he could see through the distorted air a group of black robes moving toward them fast. As the Shields went back down, he took aim along with the others and shouted, _"PERCUTIO!"_

Multiple blasting hexes along with his sent the Death Eaters straight to the ground, and Blaise's team went forward to finish them off with various layered Binding Spells that none of Voldemort's forces would be able to cancel in the heat of the fighting. "WATCH OUT!" someone shouted, and Harry and the others ducked and dodged as retaliatory hexes streaked around them.

"ACK!"

"Dennis!" Collin Creevy yelled, and other cries of pain rang out.

Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw several D.A. members on the ground. "Ginny, hover them to the back!"

"Yessir! Orange Team, with me!"

"WEASLEY, I need help here!" Blaise shouted, backing his group up as another band of Death Eaters came after them. Fred and Lee Jordan and several former Hogwarts students ran to back him up. "Oh…"

"Expecting another Weasley?" Lee asked, aiming a Bone-Breaking Hex into the black robes.

"Any redhead'll do… _Perfringo_ "

"HARRY!" Harry peered through the sea of bodies to see Snape, pointing frantically.

"What's he on—Harry, your boy's on his way," somebody said in a shaky voice.

Harry finally spotted the larger figure among the Death Eaters, moving across the field in their direction. "Ron, better start pulling out!"

"What? Oy. Right. Hang on; he's not here yet. Green Team, to me! _Pressum_ Give us a Shield on the right flank! Neville, watch your back!"

"Watch your left, Blaise, someone's using _Incendio_ " Harry threw a Partner Shield toward Zabini; it wasn't very strong at that distance, but it kept the other boy from being cooked.

"Thanks— _Contego_ Blues, keep your—uh-oh. Harry?" Harry looked again and saw Voldemort, moving leisurely along the Order front lines and causing a great deal of damage as he made his way toward them.

"I think I better go meet him before he takes Moody's whole squad out."

"Not alone, you're not!" Sirius shouted back at him.

"Death Eaters can't kill Harry!" someone said.

"No, but they could hurt you and let Voldemort finish you off," said Ron. "But you're right; the git needs distracting."

"Together, then!" Snape told them.

"Yessir! Teams, form up around Potter! We're moving west!" Harry found himself back in the center of a crowd of students as he started running.

"Just worry about the Death Eaters, and draw off when we get there," he told Ron. _"Tectum!_ "

"Be careful, mate. Duck! _Plagas_ "

"You too—PROFESSOR! PULL THEM BACK!" Harry shouted at Smythe-Wellington. He got a wave in response, then sparks went up, and the Order forces broke and ran, pulling back toward Harry and the D.A.

"STUDENTS, FALL IN!" Moody bellowed at them, as the Order members joined them. "We'll break off, and it's your show, Potter. WATCH OUT!"

Everyone ducked as several Death Eaters and Voldemort threw a volley of Killing Curses into the Order lines. Most were dodged, but a few weren't, and Harry was shaken when a red-robed figure dropped to the ground in front of him.

"Steadmann, damn!" Snape hissed. "Focus, Harry," he said, pulling Harry around the body as they kept going. Harry took a deep breath and nodded, looking for Voldemort. "Students, to the back! We've got heavy curses coming in…WATCH YOUR RIGHT! Dammit, Black, we're too tight in here!"

"D.A., WITH MOODY!" Sirius roared. "AURORS, LOOSEN UP!"

A Burning Hex sizzled past Harry's cheek, making him hiss as he flinched away. They weren't far from Voldemort; he could see the red eyes above the mass of black robes. "Get the people in front out of the way. He'll just take them out," he said to Snape.

"SQUAD ONE, BREAK LEFT, SQUAD TWO, BREAK RIGHT! Take flanking positions! Weasley, get to the back with the others!"

"I stay with Harry!"

"Not against Voldemort!" Harry snapped at Ron.

"We're not TO Voldemort yet! _Contego_ " Ron stubbornly stayed with the Order members protecting Harry as they advanced closer to Voldemort and his fighters.

"We're almost in curse range of him," Sirius said firmly, catching Ron by the arm. "Come on, get back there."

"Harry!" Ron called urgently, and Harry looked back at his friend's anxious face.

"I'll be okay! Go! I've got to do this myself, Ron!"

Ron let himself be drawn back by Mr. McGonagall, and rejoined several Hogwarts teachers fighting with the D.A. Harry returned his attention to the towering red-eyed figure in front of him. His scar was burning hot on his forehead, but he was concentrating so hard that he barely noticed. Voldemort had paused from his offensive to watch Harry's approach, but then resumed throwing hexes at random into the crowd of Harry's protectors. Some missed as Order members ducked and dodged frantically, but from those that struck targets, the person who fell did not rise again.

"It's getting awfully hot up here!" Snetterton warned.

"Keep Potter flanked!" Snape snapped. "Won't do us any good against the Dark Lord if Death Eaters get to him first!"

"He's right; you better fall back," Harry said distractedly. "Just keep them from hitting me and let me worry about Voldemort."

"Hang on; Harry, get down. Boys, let's give them a hard volley, hit anything in black. Ready?" Sirius took aim. "NOW!"

_"Percutio!" "Ferito!" "Pressum!" "Plagas!" "Quassio!" "Avada Kedavra!" "Ictus!"_

What seemed like a wall of colored light erupted from the wands of the Order members around Harry, blazing into the lines of Voldemort's forces. Harry blinked, dazzled, as he got to his feet, and when the air cleared, Voldemort was surrounded by less of his supporters.

"All right, people, fall back—Black, that means you too! Come on!" Snape pulled Sirius away, and they resumed hexing Death Eaters scattered around the field, leaving the Dark Lord to Harry.

Voldemort waved his remaining supporters aside. "Well, Harry. You have certainly come into your own."

Harry wasn't in the mood to chat. He just wanted this to be over with. He took aim and saw the dark wizard do likewise. But when he cast his first hex— _Quassio_ —instead of shielding or attacking with one of his own, Voldemort dodged.

Then the Dark Lord cursed one of the Healers.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, outraged.

Voldemort's thin lips curled nastily. "Why are you shocked, Harry? I have no wish to deprive myself of the pleasure of slaughtering my enemies, even as I am dealing with a little nuisance such as you."

"Bloody duel already! _AVADA_ _KEDAVRA!"_ Harry roared, trying to keep Voldemort's attention on him. But the dark wizard dodged it again and slipped further along the fighting, hexing Order members at random, and daring a jinx at Harry only when Harry didn't have a clear shot back at him. "Watch out!" Harry yelled frantically at Snape.

The Potions Master growled something _very_ dirty and bellowed, "ORDER, FALL BACK!" He threw up a Shield in Harry's direction and said, "Bloody bastard doesn't play fair, Potter, remember that."

"I'm beginning to see that—careful!" Harry dodged past Snape to Shield him against a hex from one of the Death Eaters. "Pettigrew said—duck!—he's afraid of— _Ferito_ —wands meeting again!"

"Then he'll bide his time until he's certain you cannot curse him," Snape said, dodging past Harry to back one of the Order squads. "Do your best to keep him engaged, and let the rest of us deal with—WATCH IT!"

"AH!" Harry felt all the wind knocked out of him as a curse hit him directly in the back.

"Harry!" Snape grabbed him as he staggered, people shouted in alarm, and Harry gasped for breath as several Order members surrounded him and attempted to pull him back from the front lines. "Damn it—cover us… _shit…_ " Snape growled. "He's coming—HOLD HIM OFF AS LONG AS YOU CAN—Harry, stay with me!"

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Harry rasped. "Just gotta—get my—breath—"

"Black, get back there before you end up dead!" Snape shouted. "I've got him—GO!"

"Sirius?"

"He's fine; just took a bad hit in the leg," said someone, splashing water on Harry's face. "Hang on, lad."

Harry wound up on his knees in the grass, bent over with Snape and a few of the others beside him, trying to get his wind back. "Didn't see the bloody…"

"Let us deal with them; _cover_ him this time, damn it!" Snape snapped at the others.

"You-Know-Who knows he's down—he's coming right at us," someone hissed.

"Maybe…" Harry looked cautiously at Snape. "Maybe if he thinks I'm more hurt than I am, he'll try to hex me…"

"Right. Snetterton, Baker, get some people up there as if you're trying to run interference," Snape muttered at the Auror. "Then break and run."

"Got it. Come on, you three, with me," Snetterton whispered, and the Aurors jogged off.

"Can you see the D.A.?" Harry asked Snape, keeping his head down as if he were more wounded than he really was.

"Longbottom and Zabini are on the east flank with their teams; they haven't buckled," Snape said, sounding approving. "Granger is with Bergess's Auror squad, Ginevra Weasley's group is guarding the Healer teams. All appear to be holding their own."

Harry sighed. "Good. Where's Voldemort?"

"Heading directly toward us. I'd say the ruse is working."

Daring a glance sideways at the Potions Master, Harry whispered, "You'd better run fast when he gets here. He'll kill you if he can."

"I know my business, Potter," Snape replied. "Concentrate on your—WEASLEY, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

Harry's head shot up; he'd forgotten all about the plan. He saw Ron charging Voldemort with the other Aurors, intent on keeping him away from Harry. The dark wizard spotted the red haired boy, saw Harry leaping to his feet in panic, and his lips curved in a cruel sneer. Ron realized at the last second that he was in over his head, and conjured a Crystal Ball Block, but Voldemort took dead aim and fired off a sizzling curse that promptly shattered the Shield in a brilliant flash of light that sent everyone flinching back.

Everyone except Harry. Breathless with panic, he stared as the glare cleared and saw the form on the ground, unmoving.

Ron had taken a direct hit from the Dark Lord Voldemort.

No one ever survived that.

He heard Snape gasp his name, but blood was roaring in his ears as he surged toward both Voldemort and the lifeless body of his best friend. _"NOOOOOO!"_

At the sound of Voldemort's cold, high, cruel laugh, the same laugh that echoed in his oldest memories from the murder of his parents, Harry whirled, no longer crying aloud, even though his mind still howled, a senseless, deranged scream of grief and rage and denial, and brought his wand to bear on the monster.

_"AVADA KEDAVRAAAA!"_

As the curse, punctuated by frenzied sobs of anguish and fury, aced towards him, Voldemort reared back, taken by surprise at the speed of Harry's reaction, and encanted a Killing Curse of his own. The two jets of green light met between the young wizard and the Dark Lord, and Harry was vaguely aware of his hand tightening around the wand, now vibrating, as it once again connected to its brother wand in a beam of deep golden light.

Somewhere behind him, he could hear Snape and the Order members shouting warnings and instructions to each other, but it didn't reach him. He wasn't waiting this time; he wasn't really thinking of war or battle anymore. His mind could only process one thing: Voldemort had killed Ron. Ron was gone. Ron, Ron! _RON!_

Grunting, gasping with grief and rage, he _pushed_ at the light emanating from his wand, even as it lifted both him and Voldemort off their feet. He saw Voldemort attempt to frantically break the connection, jerking his own wand this way and that, but Harry copied the movements, matching them so they remained connected. He wanted it to end. He wanted Voldemort to die. And he didn't much care what happened after that.

Light sparkled around them in the dome shape, just as it had the night of the Third Task, but even the Phoenix Song could not distract him from the misery that blackened his heart. Ron was gone. Ron was gone. There would be no Ron when it was over.

Even the most beautiful sound in the universe held no hope for Harry. He sobbed aloud, tears streaming down his face, for it only made him sadder as it sang on inside of him and around him. He had associated it with Dumbledore once, but now…

Dumbledore was gone. Remus was gone. Percy and George and Draco and _Ron! RON! RON_ was gone!

So the song made him cry. He saw the beads of light appear in the main, thick beam that connected his wand to Voldemort's, and he cried harder, sinking to his knees as he pushed them away. It wasn't as hard or scary as he remembered it being when he was fourteen—or maybe he just didn't care. He gritted his teeth and _pushed_ , his wand shuddering as the beads were forced back toward Voldemort, who remained on his feet but still could not seem to break the connection, even though he tried…

Voldemort fought back; Harry sensed the resistance, the other force trying to push the beads back toward his wand. It made his scar burn something fierce. But nothing really hurt him physically, not anymore. He'd lost too much; there was nothing left to lose.

Dumbledore had once said there were things worse than death. Harry believed it now. _Crucio_ was nothing to the feeling of loving people, so many people, all gone. Gone forever and never seeing them again. What was death compared to that?

So it didn't hurt much, or maybe he just didn't notice. He _pushed_ , his wand scalding the flesh of his palms, his hands spasming from the tightness of his grip, and he did not even consider letting up. And the beads of golden light, so beautiful, the phoenix song, so beautiful, all the beauty and sweetness a reminder of all he had lost, traveled away from him until they reached the tip of Voldemort's wand, and then connected…

The wand emitted echoing screams of pain again…many, many of them…and the gray shades of people appeared almost at once.

People who had died here on the battlefield today. He saw Steadmann, the Auror who had thrown himself into the path of a Killing Curse to protect Harry, a boy he'd never met. He saw Ministry wizards, other witches and wizards who weren't even Auror trained, but who'd come here as volunteers to fight against Voldemort…he saw former Hogwarts students who had graduated only a few years ago…

Harry's wand shook as their forms swirled around him; he heard their voices, calling out encouragement and support. He saw Cho Chang, a Healer trainee; he hadn't realized Voldemort must have killed her among the Healers trying to save the wounded…his breath caught in his throat as he struggled to keep his wand still, and she whispered, "It's okay, Harry…hold on…you're going to make it…don't give up…don't give up, Harry…you haven't lost everything…"

"I…" Harry gasped for breath. Suddenly, he could feel again; it was starting to hurt. Deep in his chest, and also in his scar and all of his body, the effort of holding the wands in _Priori Incantatem_ was starting to wear on him. And there were still so many people Voldemort had killed…

The shades swirled around him, most of them strangers, a few even Death Eaters who had undoubtedly displeased their Master. They regarded him curiously, but seemed to understand his purpose, and whispered encouragement to him.

Then a group of them moved apart, and a heavyset figure came toward them. Harry was so surprised that he recoiled, and almost lost his grip on his wand, as he looked into the ghostly face of Vernon Dursley.

"Hullo, Harry," his uncle said quietly. "I guess this magic thing's got to me after all."

"I…I…" Harry struggled to think, to answer, and to concentrate on controlling his wand at the same time.

"Listen," Uncle Vernon said. "I know we didn't get on, but…you beat him, all right? For everyone."

"I will," Harry gasped, his throat raw. Sweat ran in his eyes, and through a gap in a few of the shades, he saw that Voldemort had fallen to his knees as well. And still more shades appeared from his wand…

Cedric arrived, joining Cho in calling out to him, words of encouragement and hope. And then…

"Mum!" Harry cried, even before the shade of the woman with long hair had a chance to fully right herself. "Mum, I…"

She came quickly to him, followed closely by his father, and said, "You can, Harry. You can. Don't let go."

"I'm…tired…" he gasped, his chest very heavy. He felt as if all the energy in his body was being drained away by that light, and it hurt, and his arms were feeling weak from trying to hold his wand steady, he couldn't…

"You can," his father said urgently. "You _can!_ "

"KILL HIM!" Voldemort shrieked, and a hex pierced the glowing cage, but the shades swirled around its edges, blocking the Death Eaters' view of Harry.

"We, his victims, are your allies, Harry," said a woman who looked familiar, but Harry couldn't place for a few minutes until he finally recognized her as Dorcas Meadows, an original Order member in the photograph Moody had shown him. "Believe in yourself, allow us to help…you can end this today once and for all…"

He was getting dizzy, feeling weaker by the moment. He was half-doubled over on his knees in the grass, as the wands vibrated on, and the ghosts of Voldemort's victims kept on coming. There were so many. Finally, Voldemort's wand screamed in agony louder than ever, and one last figure emerged…a man, a Muggle, tall and handsome and well-dressed, gazing from his fellow shades to Harry to Voldemort.

"My son…you were my son."

Harry, for a few moments, forgot his own struggles as he watched Tom Riddle, the elder, confronting his murderer…the son he had abandoned along with his mother. "You…" Voldemort snarled, also showing signs of being weakened by the effort of fighting the wands. "Filth! You deserved nothing less than what I gave you!"

Tom Riddle, Sr., turned toward Harry. "Destroy him, boy! He's a murdering monster!"

"Maybe if…you hadn't…treated him…" Harry heard himself grunt. Why such a thing mattered right now, right here, he couldn't imagine, but something made him say it. From the corner of his increasingly-bleary eyes, he saw Uncle Vernon bow his head. Harry's parents looked sad.

But in the surprise, he hadn't noticed that the beads, having nothing left to draw out of Voldemort's wand, were traveling towards his own, and he didn't see them until they touched the tip…

His wand vibrated, burning hot, scalding his hands until he cried out, but there wasn't much to come from it—or so he thought…

The echoes of the various combat curses that he had thrown were uncomfortable to experience as they emerged from his own wand, but he felt he could manage it, just barely, until…

His wand screamed. And so did he, doubling over his knees, trying not to lose the connection or throw up, and when he looked up again, he saw Voldemort's surprised and amused expression, and his parents' shock…

 _Oh lord. The Cruciatus Curse…_ He had tried to _Crucio_ Bellatrix Lestrange nearly two years ago, and…he looked at his mother and father and choked out, "I'm—sorry—"

"Don't give up," his mother whispered, her face anxious. "Just hold on."

"You can do it, Harry!" Cedric called.

There wasn't much time…his wand was vibrating harder…his teeth were rattling…he couldn't breathe, it hurt, it _hurt_ , he couldn't, he _couldn't…oh god…_ his wand was…burning…

The shades were vanishing into nothing and the beams of light that made up the cage were closing in, centering themselves in the main beam right between the wands. Harry cried out in pain, and vaguely heard his parents—or maybe someone else—calling to him, telling him to hold on—it hurt so much—his head was splitting open, and the light between them was getting brighter and brighter from all the energy, and it was changing color from gold…to…green, and then…

There was a hissing, sizzling _ROAR,_ and the last thing Harry saw was the green light blazing in front of his eyes, and a blast of searing, devastating, _killing_ pain…

* * *

 

The shock wave of the magical eruption threw Severus off his feet, along with everyone else on the blood-soaked field in Godric's Hollow. He had expected a massive explosion when that sizzling ball of energy had formed in the center of the beam connecting the two wands, but even he hadn't been prepared for when the ball had split, blasting both wands to smithereens and almost certainly killing both people holding them. He heard Hermione Granger screaming as he scrambled back to his feet, and managed to catch the girl before she ran straight up to the two figures lying on the now-empty patch of grass.

"Wait!"

"Harry! HARRY!" Hermione half-shouted, half-sobbed as she struggled to break away from him. "Let me GO!"

"Merlin, is it over?"

"Be careful!" People staggered up and looked at the Dark Lord and the boy, both lying prone. No one was certain whether it was safe to approach them.

Granger finally rammed her elbow into Snape's stomach, staggering him, and wrenched herself free, racing to her friend's side. Fortunately, the girl had the good sense to heed Snape's warnings, and moved cautiously, keeping her wand ready in one hand even as she checked Harry's pulse.

Moody and Smythe-Wellington joined Snetterton standing over the Dark Lord. "He alive?"

"Watch it, I think he just moved."

"Buggeration."

"Granger, what's Potter's condition?"

"He's alive," Hermione said, her voice trembling as she cautiously turned Harry over. Severus caught his breath. The boy's face was starkly white, his scar standing out red and angry against his forehead, his mouth slightly open with his lips a bluish tinge. He was alive. "Barely," she whispered, touching his hair.

Severus knelt beside her, reaching for Harry just as the boy gave a final gasp…and stopped breathing altogether.

* * *

 

Voices shouted in the distance, sounding frightened, but they went further and further away, or maybe it was Harry going further away, into a veil of fog.

It was very quiet and peaceful, and he couldn't quite remember what he had been doing…oh. Voldemort. He'd been fighting Voldemort.

Apparently, he'd lost. He remembered the green light of the Killing Curse in his eyes, just before the pain had erupted—lord, that had hurt—and the world had gone black. And now here he was…wherever "here" was…

_"Harry…"_

He looked around. "Hello?" He couldn't see a thing in the fog…

The grass, damp with dew, crackled nearby, and he turned…and froze. Coming toward him were none other than…his parents. James and Lily Potter, as real and alive-looking as in the photographs Harry cherished—no, more alive-looking. More real.

"Mum?" he whispered, hardly daring to believe it. _"Dad?"_

His parents smiled, and his mother reached out to him. Harry cautiously extended his hand, barely daring to hope, having imagined a moment such as this all his life, to see his parents, to _touch them…_

His hand met his mother's. Her skin was soft and warm, not ghostlike. Real. Like love. With a choked sob, he flew right into her arms. "Mum…" he gasped.

In the silence of the fog, he heard her laugh, and felt his father touching his head and turned and reached for James as well. He wanted to hold onto both of them at once and never let go…

"Oh, Harry," his father said, cupping his cheek, brushing tears away with a fingertip. "We're so proud of you."

"I'm sorry," he said breathlessly. "I tried, I…"

His mother kissed him, and his voice stopped altogether. "You haven't lost," she told him. At his confused reaction, her face sobered. "Harry…you haven't gone yet. You still have to win."

"How?" he asked, looking around in surprise.

"By going back."

"What?" Harry rocked back in dismay, staring from Lily to James. "But I—you—here—"

"Either must die at the hand of the other," said James, putting one arm around Harry and the other around his wife. "You and Voldemort struck each other with Killing Curses, and burned out all the power in both of your wands. One of you will survive, and the other will die. You have to go back, Harry."

Harry's heart sank. "And leave you…"

"You've never left us," Lily insisted, without the slightest note of doubt in her voice. "And we have never left you. Haven't you realized that yet?"

"But I…like this, I've never…" Harry tried to protest.

"I know," his father said softly, touching his hair again. "But there is still plenty of love waiting for you in life. You can't dwell on what you've lost."

Sounds reached Harry's ears then, and he glanced over his shoulder. The fog was parting, and in the distance, he could hear cries of anguish and fear. He shrank back, a little scared, as something came into focus…

A form was lying on the ground, vague and blurry, surrounded by people. They were all in red robes, and in a rush of shock, Harry realized he was seeing himself. Lying on the ground, dead or dying, surrounded by the Order…

He could see Hermione, clinging to Sirius, both of them weeping and talking frantically to the Healers, who were trying to extract Harry's lifeless body from the arms of a figure with red hair…

"Ron!" he gasped, his heart lifting with a surge of simultaneous shock and joy. "Ron's not dead, he's…he didn't…"

His best friend's face was bruised and bloody, and his robes were torn, but Ron didn't seem to notice his own injuries; he was too distraught over the limp figure cradled in his arms. As Harry watched through the mist, astonished, Ron cradled his body and rocked back and forth, crying harder than Harry had ever seen him cry before.

"Harry, Harry, no! No, no, please, don't, Harry, no!" the red-haired boy sobbed, burying his face in Harry's chest as he cradled his lifeless friend. "Please, PLEASE don't leave me, don't do this, please, I can't, no…"

His parents were no longer holding him, but stood close behind him as he watched the scene. "He wants me back," he whispered dully.

"Sirius too," said another familiar voice, and Harry looked back to see Remus now standing beside his parents. He managed a weak smile, and Remus touched his cheek. "You two have a life to start, when the war's over. You all do. Don't walk away from that, Harry."

He sighed, feeling as if his heart were being pulled in two different directions. To see them, to be so near to them filled him with a joy so intense that it hurt, and the thought of leaving them, of never feeling their touch again gave him a terrible pang. But Ron…and Sirius…and Hermione and Ginny and everyone…

He had to go back. If he died, Voldemort would survive. And even if that weren't certain to happen…Ron was crying. He still remembered how he had screamed and cried and tried to kill Voldemort when he'd thought his friend was gone…what would happen to Ron if he didn't go back?

"I know I have to," he murmured, a dull ache filling him at the thought.

"You have never been without love, Harry," said another voice, and he spotted Dumbledore somewhere behind his parents and Remus, smiling as he watched them all. "Remember?"

"Yeah," Harry managed, looking to his parents again.

"We'll never leave you," Remus told him. "What we feel for you, and you for us, will last a lifetime. It would have even if Voldemort had never existed. That is just how love is."

"I know," he said, astonished to find himself fighting tears, even in this strange place.

His mother drew him into her arms, and he held on hard, savoring the sensation of a pair of so real arms, warm and sheltering, loving, holding him tight and physically, the grip conveying all the emotion that he knew he felt but couldn't describe and had always wanted to live with…his father was next, the power of their embraces enough to last a lifetime, if he needed it.

Then they retreated back into the mist, standing close to Dumbledore, and Harry was starting to turn back toward the edge of the fog when someone called his name. "Oy! Harry, wait a second!"

To his complete astonishment, Draco Malfoy came running out of the mist. "Uh, hi?" he stammered.

Could ghosts…or shades…blush? If so, they were both doing it. Draco had apparently had an important reason to talk to Harry, but now that he was here, he hesitated. The other boy's gray eyes flicked to Harry's chest, and he remarked, "Hey, I recognize that."

Harry looked down at the amulet around his neck. "Yeah?"

"Snape. He gave it to me after Frimby Park," Draco said, looking at the ground. "Didn't work against a Killing Curse, obviously, but I guess it's pretty powerful after the fact."

"Oh," Harry said, surprised. "I guess that's why…"

Draco shrugged. "Don't grudge it to you, anyway. Listen, I wanted to ask you if you'd tell Snape something for me. I mean, I know it must've made him pretty…mad, when I…did…you know. So…would you, uh…"

"Yeah, I'll give him a message," Harry said awkwardly. Blimey, dead people really could blush.

Draco toed the grass and muttered, "Just tell him, ah, tell him…" he finally looked appealingly at Harry. "You know the kind of thing I want to say, right?"

"Er…yeah, I think so," Harry said sheepishly. "And I'll…I'll tell him."

Draco looked relieved. "Thanks. Anyway, thanks for…taking care of Voldemort. I can say it now," he added proudly.

Harry felt himself smiling. "You're all right, Malfoy."

Draco grinned. "You too." He nodded past Harry. "Better be getting back."

"Right," Harry sighed. He looked once more at his parents. They smiled, encouraging as if they were wishing him good luck at a Quidditch game or something, and then…

* * *

 

A violent and incredibly-painful gasp forced air into his lungs, making them burn, and his body arched with the effort. The breath that followed wasn't quite so hard, but it still hurt, the next one a little easier, allowing Harry's senses to begin making note of things beyond the desperate struggle to survive.

Such as… _GOD, my head hurts…my chest hurts…my stomach—think I'm gonna throw up…my legs hurt…my hands hurt…_

Could a person's _hair_ hurt?

Yes.

He wanted to sink back into oblivion and sleep for a few hundred years—or at least until EVERYTHING stopped hurting—but there were noises now, and something jolting him around and preventing him from sinking back into blissful unconsciousness, unfortunately. Eventually, he could distinguish their voices.

"He's breathing—Merlin's beard, he's breathing again."

"Come on, mate, come on," someone sobbed.

"Weasley, CALM yourself!"

"He's dead, he's just died!"

"WHAT?"

"Not him, you idiot, You-Know-Who! HA! Just bloody copped it right in front of us! Good riddance!"

"Alastor, don't give yourself a coronary. Come on, let's get on the pursuit. Death Eaters in full retreat; if we follow, we can probably…"

"Right, SNETTY! Get us a team together, fast!"

"Harry? Can you hear me, love?" Someone was muttering spells as someone else was cushioning his head in their lap. Harry tried to answer, if only to get them all to stop…bloody…TALKING, but all that came out was a low groan through his teeth.

"Did you hear that?"

"Ron, calm down!"

"He's okay, he's okay, he'll be okay, right?"

"Rn…" Harry mumbled. He couldn't even think of opening his eyes; the glare through his eyelids was bad enough. How long had that bloody battle lasted anyway, was it only noon?

Someone else was sobbing now. "He's okay, Sirius," someone said. "He's going to be okay. He won."

"God, my god, I thought I'd…lost him…" his godfather choked out, apparently into someone's shoulders.

"Harry?" said a low voice, as a figure bent over him and blocked out some of the light. "Can you hear me?"

Finally, he forced his eyes open. Snape was leaning over him. He winced—it was still VERY bright—and a Healer he didn't recognize whispered a charm that covered them all with a patch of shade. That helped.

His throat was dry, and he felt like a rag someone had wrung out, but he sucked in his breath and managed to whisper, "Ron?"

"Right here, mate," said a shaky voice, and he spotted his friend's face, tear-streaked, but split by a huge smile of relief. Ron scooted past Tonks and Snape to grip his hand hard. It hurt—his hands were both burned—but at the same time, it felt good. "You scared me half to death," he laughed, still crying.

"You…too…" Harry mumbled, trying to keep his eyes open. "Thought…you…dead…"

"Not me," Ron said dismissively. He looked around and moved to the side, "Hey, here's Sirius."

Harry found himself swept up into his godfather's arms. Sirius shook like a leaf and sobbed a few times into Harry's hair before composing himself. "It's over, Harry, you're safe. You're finally safe. God, for a few minutes, I thought…"

"Yeah," Harry sighed wearily. "Me too. Sirius…" his godfather sat back a little and looked at him. "I…saw Remus. And Mum and Dad…"

Sirius gaped, as did quite a few of the others, but Hermione said from somewhere behind them, "I'd believe him if I were you."

"I do," Sirius said softly, and folded Harry into his arms again.

"So is that it?" Ron asked, rubbing Harry's back. "Is the war finally done with?"

"'m not dead, wha' more d'you want?" Harry mumbled at him, with his face half-smothered in his godfather's robes.

"Let us handle the rest of it," said Tonks cheerfully, ruffling his hair. "You've done more than your share. The Death Eaters took off as soon as you and Voldy dropped, and Moody and Snetty are keeping after them."

 _"Voldy?"_ exclaimed Ginny, from somewhere outside Harry's rather limited vision.

"What's the matter, the git's dead!"

"Good point. Voldy. I like it."

"Or, if you're still squeamish, just call him the Big Dead Git," said Lee Jordan, sitting on the ground behind Ron with Fred next to him. That was the first time since George had been lost that Harry had seen Fred smile.

"As much as this naming game is amusing, I suggest we move Mr. Potter back to Hogwarts," said Snape.

"I quite agree," said Tonks, rubbing her dirty face with a marginally-less-dirty sleeve of her Auror robes. "We've still got cleanup out here. You lot and the D.A. get back to Hogwarts and get some sleep, or help in the hospital wing."

"Aye-aye, madam," said Sirius. He tried to get to his feet, but one leg, wrapped heavily with a makeshift bandage that still oozed blood, promptly folded under him. "Argh. Bloody hell."

"Here, I've got you, Sirius," said Ginny, taking one of his arms, and joined by Hermione on the other.

"I wanna walk," Harry said, trying to squirm out of the arms holding him.

Ron snorted, "You nearly DIED, mate, you can't walk—"

"Leggo!" Harry pulled away from Fred and Lee. "I want to walk!"

"Potter, do not be ridiculous!"

"Geroff!" Harry pushed his friends away, landing on the dirt, and groaned. "Bloody…lemme walk. Sick of being carried everywhere…"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, if the kid wants to walk off his victorious battlefield, let him already!" Tonks yelled at them.

Ron shrugged. "As my mum would say, on your head be it. Here, let me give you a hand at least."

"'Kay," Harry accepted Ron's help getting to his feet, and leaned on his friend, once he managed to stay upright on VERY unsteady legs.

"You sure you want to try this, mate?"

"I wanna walk!" Harry said petulantly. Ron rolled his eyes, and slung an arm around his waist. Hermione came to support him on the other side, leaving Fred to assist Sirius.

"All right. Oh, look, reporters here already. How about that, Harry, just imagine how notorious you are now!" Hermione teased.

Harry groaned loudly, and Sirius remarked, "Does this make you the Boy-Who-Lived Thrice?" They all groaned at that.

"I've changed my mind…think I'd rather be dead."

"Ah, don't worry about them," said Seamus Finnegan, stumping up with Dean Thomas leaning on his shoulder. "After what you pulled off today, they'll be scared of you."

"There's a thought," said Ron.

And so, they made their way slowly off the battlefield, toward the Godric's Hollow cemetery, which had suffered little damage, surprisingly, in the fighting. Ron and Hermione noticed when Harry slowed his forward progress, and they followed his gaze to the stones. "They've never left you," Hermione whispered to him. "And we here still need you."

"I know," Harry said, around a highly-irritating lump in his throat. "That's why I came back."

They made it off the field beyond the wards, to where the St. Mungo's staff were gathered around Portkey Platforms to transport the wounded here and there. They had to wait for a few minutes, because the seriously-injured had to go first, but fortunately, they were no longer in view of the reporters. Ginny came back from talking to Ella Collins, a Slytherin in her year who'd been working with the Healer teams, and announced, "They've got one for us. We'll have to take turns, but we can go."

"Right-o, then," said Ron. "Ready, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry grunted. They were only about a hundred yards from the Portkeys when the rather tenuous strength in his legs suddenly gave out altogether, and his knees buckled. "Oh lord…" Ron and Hermione yelped and grabbed for him as he sagged.

As he managed to sit up on the ground, Hermione asked, "Did you black out?"

"Uh-uh," he mumbled, and over their protests, pulled himself upright again. A few steps later, he went down faster and harder, his head spinning and his entire body starting to throb again.

" _That_ time, you fainted," Ron informed him matter-of-factly, as they sat him up again.

Someone shoved Ron out of the way. "Enough, Potter. You've made your point." And Harry found himself swept up into Snape's arms. "Leave your Gryffindor bravado so we can reach the hospital wing sometime today."

Harry laughed wearily into Snape's shoulder, closing his eyes as he was carried toward the Portkey with his friends and Sirius trailing behind (all looking incredibly smug). "Whatever you say, sir."


	49. The Wicked Die Alone

Harry leaned back into the pillows of his infirmary bed and sighed. Every muscle in his body was aching, but for the first time in a long time, he felt good. His mind kept playing over his meeting with his parents and the way it felt to be held by them. Voldemort was dead; no one at the moment was actively trying to kill him. It just felt…good.

Several of the D.A. members had gathered around his bed: in chairs, leaning against the wall, and

in the case of Ron, Hermione, Fred, and Ginny, squeezed onto the foot of the bed. In another bed nearby, Sirius Black was having his leg tended to. Harry found himself glancing that way often, just to reassure himself that Sirius had come through all right. Other Order members were coming in and out to confer with him. Around Harry's bed, all conversation would stop while they endeavored to overhear what was being reported. A couple of times, Sirius caught them at it, but he merely gave an amused lift of his eyebrows and made no attempt to prevent them from hearing.

He'd spent a few days doing nothing but sleeping, and then drifted in and out of consciousness for a few days after that. On the occasions he had been awake, he'd always been aware of people around him, some sitting or reclining on the edge of his bed, talking in hushed voices. Often he was dimly aware of someone stroking his hair, or gently holding his bandaged hands. It should have annoyed him, being fussed over and petted while he was asleep, but…it didn't really. Especially not when he woke up and found Ron and Hermione on either side of him, wedged onto the edges of the bed and snoozing with him in the middle. Sometimes, he woke up and found a big dog curled up by his feet. That was nice.

Ron had had to spend a few days in the hospital wing for his own recuperation; Voldemort's curse had come close to killing him. "Just a stubborn little git, this one," Bill Weasley had informed Harry, ruffling Ron's hair. Once Ron was released, he spent much of his time either on Harry's bed or next to it, playing chess or Exploding Snap with his convalescent friend.

Mr. Ollivander had paid Harry a special visit in the hospital wing, and brought with him a new wand, since Harry's previous one had been destroyed along with its brother wand in the battle. "I am confident that this one will be a good fit for you, Mr. Potter," the old wizard said, presenting Harry with the narrow box. "Twelve inches. Golden beech and phoenix feather."

"Phoenix feather again?" Ron asked in surprise.

"Oh, I am quite certain that phoenix feather is the only wand core suited to Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander said firmly. "It was merely a question of determining the wand's other features. Try it out, my boy."

Harry took the wand hesitantly, and gave it a wave. Red and gold sparks shot out of the tip, and he felt a sense of familiarity that reminded him of his old wand. "Think you're right," he murmured.

Other people in the hospital wing were crowding around to take a look, and Mr. Ollivander nodded proudly. "The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter, but the wizard is still the one who wields the wand. This combination may not be so dramatic as the last, but…" he smiled knowingly. "I suspect we may still expect great things from you."

Running his fingertips over the wood, Harry murmured, "Thank you."

The old wizard bowed. "My pleasure."

* * *

 

A few days after he'd finally recovered enough to move around a bit, Tonks came in; she was acting as a liaison between the forces remaining at Godric's Hollow and the command center at the school. Passing Harry's bed, she gave him a wink and held out a rolled up paper. "The Special from the _Daily Prophet_ , after Godric's Hollow. Interested?"

Ginny reached for it eagerly. "Definitely. Let's see." Tonks handed it over and went on to speak with Sirius.

Hermione joined Ginny in folding out the front page. "Look at the size of that headline: _Dark Lord Slain By Boy-Who-Lived!_ "

Harry groaned.

Ginny scanned the accompanying article. "Pretty general. They didn't have much in the way of details yet."

"Maybe there's more inside," Ron suggested.

Ginny turned the page. She said nothing.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Obituaries for the people killed in the Hogsmeade attack, and…the week before. Mr. Harris from the Quidditch shop," she paused, "Mr. Zonko…his family owned that business for a hundred years…no relatives listed…" Her voice trailed off.

Harry shifted uneasily. He didn't want to think about Mr. Zonko and his partnership with Fred and George.

Hermione took the paper from Ginny and continued. "The rest are Hogsmeade residents, and an Auror – John Bayley." She turned the page and a soft "Oh" came from her lips. She looked at Harry. "Remus…and Draco. Do you want me to read these?"

Watching Harry's face, Ron said quickly, "Read Draco's."

Hermione took a breath and began. "Draco Malfoy, age 17. Scion of the prestigious Malfoy family. Seventh year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Mr. Malfoy is survived by his mother, Narcissa Black Malfoy, and by his…" Hermione paused, "his godfather, Severus Snape."

* * *

There had been widespread panic among the Death Eaters when Voldemort fell. While some kept on fighting, many had pulled off their masks and stood resignedly waiting for their surrender to be acknowledged. But the majority had fled the field, in numbers large enough to constitute a continued threat to the wizarding world.

 

Already prepared for the possibility, teams of Aurors, led by Mad-Eye Moody, set off in pursuit. As the days following the fall of Voldemort wore on, messages came in reporting the rounding up of small groups of Death Eaters, but the main stronghold had not been located.

Reading the latest report at Sirius's bedside, Snape frowned at Harry leaning against the pillows, "Pity that you can't use that scar of yours to tell us where Voldemort was before the battle, Potter."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that would simplify things."

Ron laughed. "Why should things start getting easy now?"

A commotion erupted at the door as Professor Smythe-Wellington entered, almost running. "Sirius! Snape! We've got a fix on their headquarters."

Sirius pulled himself up with a grimace. "Where?"

"It's located in the south of Scotland, hilly area. The stronghold is a large stone building in the center of a dense woodland. The majority of the Death Eaters are concentrated there, and it's believed that Lucius Malfoy is running the show." She continued. "We've secured the perimeter with anti-apparition wards. Anyone in there will have to fight their way out."

Sirius was already signaling to nearby Auror officers. "How large a force is needed to take it?"

She smiled wearily. "Everyone we can get."

Snape had started towards the door, but stopped with a startled oath as Harry came out of the bed. "What do you think you're doing, Potter?" he snapped.

"I'm going with you." At his statement, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the other D.A. members in the room scrambled to fall in behind him.

Snape waved them back. "There is no need. Your battle is over."

Harry shook his head. "Not yet, it isn't."

Sirius pulled himself upright and walked over. "This is going to be a smaller battle. We won't need the D.A."

Harry refused to back down. "Then we'll stay on the perimeter, pass messages, do first aid, whatever's needed, but we're coming." A strong murmur of agreement rose from the others around him.

Snape looked at Sirius and Sirius shrugged. "Very well, Potter," Snape snarled. "But you will stay _back_ and do exactly as instructed."

Sirius spoke quietly. "He's already proved himself capable of following orders."

Professor Smythe-Wellington nodded. "I agree. And having them on the perimeter will free up more of us to get inside."

Snape scowled but made no further argument.

"That's settled then." Her eyes took in the group. "You're with me." She turned and followed Sirius and Snape from the infirmary, Harry and the others close behind her.

Once again, the castle became a hive of activity as groups gathered, received their orders, and left to apparate to the stronghold location. The small group of D.A. members with Harry were assigned a location, and under Professor Smythe-Wellington's directions, they followed Sirius to the edge of the Hogwarts grounds and apparated out.

Harry found himself at the edge of a thick wood, eerily reminiscent of the Forest of Shadows. The same sense of maleveolence seemed to permeate the ground, the trees, the very air around them.

"Bloody hell," he heard Ron whisper behind him.

Hell indeed. For a moment, Harry felt frozen as memories washed over him of the Fortress, the Mountain…Remus, Sirius…and Snape.

"Harry?" Sirius touched his arm, rousing him. "We want the group of you back there, behind that ridge." He gave his godson a look of understanding. "Unpleasant place. Just stay well back."

Startled out of his reverie, Harry grabbed Sirius's arm. "Where will you be?"

"I'm going in with the others. Professor Smythe-Wellington is directing things out here."

"Be careful…I mean, I know you will, just don't take chances now that…" Harry suddenly felt as if he were babbling, but he couldn't help himself. Sirius…going in harm's way again…

"I will, Harry." Sirius pulled him into a quick hug. Aurors and Order members around them were starting their advance into the trees, wands drawn. Sirius released Harry, pulled out his own wand, and without another word, joined the others.

At Professor Smythe-Wellington's command, Harry and the others took their positions on the ridge. It gave them the advantage of being able to look over the area. Within moments of the advance into the woods, flashes of curse light could be seen. Next to him, Harry saw Hermione shudder. Remembering what she'd said about hating battles, Harry nudged Ron, who reached over and pulled her to him. She took a couple of deep breaths and smiled. "Thanks. I'll be all right."

A sudden commotion and an increase in the flashes of curse light indicated that the closest troops had reached the stronghold. Harry, along with some of the others, climbed a little higher on the ridge to get a better view. A shouted command from below as Professor Smythe-Wellington realized their intent, sent them scrambling back down and taking shelter behind boulders and outcroppings.

Harry crouched behind a rocky ledge that ran along above the north edge of the woods. Keeping low, he moved along it until he came to a small opening. Looking down through it, he could see figures, both red and black, fighting in the thinner areas of the woods. Curse light flashed so furiously as to be almost blinding.

Fred slid over to look along with him. "Smythe-Wellington says a lot of Death Eaters reported down on the south side of the stronghold. A lot of them are surrendering too."

"Good," Harry replied. He spotted a small group of black robes moving furtively toward the edge of the woods, obviously aiming to slip beyond the anti-apparation wards and escape, so he and the others took aim with their wands, and cast a spectacular ring of sparks around the fugitives. In less than a minute, nearly a dozen Aurors were honing in on them.

Someone signaled to them for a messenger, so Fred and Lee Jordan slipped away and headed down the hillside to join the Auror crews. A few minutes later, a glowing silver bird flew up into Hermione's hands, then transformed into a paper note. She opened it and read, "They've entered the stronghold and started a systematic search. We're to keep a look out for any areas in the hills where there might be secret exits."

"Probably got an escape tunnel," Ron mused, peering into the rocks around them.

"Or more than one," Harry agreed.

"Is that a cave or a tunnel up above us?" Ginny asked, pointing at a small, dark opening nearly invisible in the rocky terrain.

"Hmm…" Hermione regarded it, then shined a light from her wand into it. "Not sure." She conjured another silver bird and sent a message down to Fred and Lee. "They'll send someone to check it out." Below them, they spotted Fred and Lee receiving the message and talking to Snape, who had returned to report to one of the Aurors. He waved an acknowledgement and started up the hillside.

Just then, there was a rattle of rocks and dirt being knocked down the slope, and Harry and his friends spun around in time to hear agitated voices from the mouth of the opening. "Tunnel," Ginny hissed unnecessarily, and Hermione aimed some sparks down the hillside, to warn Snape what was happening. "Stay down!"

"We can't let them get away!" Ron protested.

"We won't," Harry agreed. "But if they think someone's here, they may try for another exit, and we'll lose them."

Above them, they could hear the Death Eaters hissing to each other in frantic voices, the sounds echoing out of the tunnel, and then a familiar, cultured, and cruel voice snapping, "Keep _up_ , dammit!"

Harry's blood ran cold. It was Lucius Malfoy. A few moments later, a very nervous Crabbe, Sr. emerged from the tunnel, peering around before signaling to the others that the coast was clear. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny crouched as low as they could, listening to the Death Eaters slipping out into the open.

"We're still inside the wards. It's another two hundred yards before we can apparate," said Dolohov.

"We will rendevous in Paris," Malfoy told the others. "At the safe house, then make our way to a more secured location to regroup and…determine our options."

Ginny tugged at Harry's arm, giving him an urgent look, and he nodded; if the Death Eaters got away today, they might be able to escape the authorities long enough to reform and keep doing real damage. Especially with Lucius Malfoy in the lead. Cautiously, Ginny began slipping down the hillside, keeping herself out of sight, to go and meet Snape. Harry alternated between watching her and watching the Death Eaters, until she managed to intercept the Potions Master, pulling him down to keep their cover from being blown.

The Death Eaters were starting to move away from them, intending to climb over the ridge and keep the hill between themselves and the fighting until they reached the edge of the anti-apparation wards. Hermione motioned to Harry and Ron that she would stay to direct Snape, and so the two of them cautiously followed the dark wizards. It didn't take Snape long to catch up with them. "Reinforcements are on the way," he muttered to Harry. His eyes were dark and hooded, but Harry could tell what the Potions Master was thinking: he had a score to settle with Lucius Malfoy.

But Snape had restrained himself from acting too quickly, and they might have managed to do nothing more than follow the Death Eaters if Dolohov hadn't looked over his shoulder at precisely the wrong moment. "OY!"

Snape was up like a shot, taking dead aim with his wand. " _Ictus!_ "

Three of the Death Eaters in Malfoy's group went flying, Crabbe took off in one direction, Lucius in the other as Dolohov returned fire. Harry ducked between Snape and Ron for a clear shot at the tunnel entrance. _"REDUCTO!"_

The dirt and rocks above the opening crashed down into it, and another blast from the still-hidden Hermione effectively cut off that escape route. Ron took off after them, and Crabbe and Dolohov soon found themselves pinned between two very effective D.A. members, neither of whom revealed their position from the rocks.

Snape was in pursuit of Lucius Malfoy, and Harry scrambled over the ridge to cut the former Dark Lord's lieutenant off. He nearly didn't make it over the rough terrain, but settled for throwing a volley of curses in front of Malfoy, which had the effect of making the man think there were more enemies in front of him. He reared back and dodged for cover back in the direction where Harry was hiding, giving Snape time to get behind him

Snape was moving upward, towards Lucius's position when the rocks he was climbing over shifted, momentarily throwing him off balance as debris slid away from beneath his feet. Lucius took advantage of his foe's temporary helplessness and came out of cover to throw a curse. Snape dove for cover, but Harry heard him yell in pain. Swearing, he scrambled out from behind his shielding boulder and fired off a curse that hit Lucius in the shoulder and nearly sent him off the ridge. The man disappeared in a pile of rubble with a cry of pain.

Cautiously, Harry made his way down the hill, scuttling sideways like a crab towards the fallen Death Eater, and heard Snape coming toward him as well. He paused, leaning on an outcropping to try and see what condition the Potions Master was in, but then…

_"Quassio!"_

Harry lurched back as a curse was thrown at him from where Malfoy had been hiding. It missed, but struck the ground near enough to throw Harry off his feet and send him tumbling head over heels over the rough ground. He yelled, trying to curl up as rocks and tree roots jabbed into him, but then the back of his head slammed into something incredibly hard, and his vision erupted with light. When his senses returned, he was lying sprawled against the rocks, his head pounding.

"Harry? Harry!" A frightened voice called to him, but Harry was afraid he'd pass out or throw up if he tried to answer, so he just lay where he was until Snape reached him. "Damn it," the Potions Master muttered as he began incanting spells. "Can you answer me?"

"Yeah," Harry grunted, feeling the magic repairing the bones he'd broken. "I think…I'm okay." He let Snape help him into a sitting position, though his head protested mightily.

Snape examined the back of his head. "Concussion. Hold still…" he whispered a few more spells that made Harry's head swim badly for a few moments, but when the sensation left, he felt more alert. "Better?"

"Yeah," he took a shaky breath. "Did we lose him?"

"Probably," Snape growled. "Come. Let's get back to the others—" The sound of debris shifting above them made them both freeze where they were, then a rush of bitterly cold air, dry and dead, swept over them. "What the…"

At the top of the ridge, they could hear Lucius Malfoy laughing at them. "Good-bye, Severus! I suggest you and Potter say your farewells!"

"Dementors!" Harry hissed, and the two of them began scrambling over the rocks, trying to scale the ridge and warn the Order forces before the Dementors reached them.

Snape pulled him along when he tried to cast a Patronus. "You've had a head injury; you'll kill yourself!"

Neither of them dared a glance at the creatures they could feel approaching, but just as they scaled the top of the ridge and started back down, the world around them seemed to darken, and the black-cloaked beings appeared on the hillside, certain to cut them off. Harry heard Snape breathing fast beside him, and felt his own heart starting to pound as horror rose in his chest. People were shouting somewhere below them, but the Order forces were too far away.

"I have to try," he gasped, taking aim. Snape held him up, and he thought fiercely of the best thing he could think of: Voldemort was gone. The war was over. " _EXPECTO_ _PATRO—_ ah!"

Pain shot through his head, and his legs buckled, his weight pulling both him and Snape to the ground. Snape swore furiously and pulled Harry into his arms. "We're done for."

"Can't you…" Harry choked out, trying to keep his mind off the memories of his mother's screams and the light of the moon in Remus's eyes.

Obviously feeling the effects of the dementors as well, Snape shrank back with Harry against the rocks and said, "I have never been able to cast a Patronus."

"What? Oh…" Harry sighed and shivered, resting his head on Snape's shoulder like he sometimes did with Sirius. "Sorry…"

The dementors were close, Lucius Malfoy was laughing, and nightmarish memories were getting very loud in Harry's ears. He could hear Snape groaning as he tried to fight off whatever horrors the dementors were making him relive as well. Snape's hand suddenly brushed against something hard against Harry's chest. "What's…"

"Amulet," Harry mumbled, pulling it out. "Will it…work?"

"No," Snape replied, but kept his hand around it, as though it was a comfort to him.

That reminded Harry of something. "Saw Draco…after the fight…"

"What?" Snape sounded so surprised that Harry looked up at him; it was as if the effects of the advancing dementors had been pushed back from them a little.

"I saw him…he said…wanted me to tell you…you know…" Harry shuddered, trying to think of his parents and not the blood on the battlefield.

Snape was silent for several moments, but then, he pushed Harry to the ground, leaving the startled boy looking up at him as he aimed his wand at the dementors and roared, _"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

Silver-white light erupted from the end of the Potions Master's wand, making Harry blink and clumsily try to shield his eyes. Snape stumbled back, as surprised as Harry was, and a dazzling figure formed from the light, coalescing above the ground to soar toward the dementors. A dragon.

The dementors reared back and fled as the enormous Patronus drove them back up the hill. Snape dropped to his knees next to Harry, who sat up and put a hand on his shoulder. When he looked at Harry, he was trembling, as both of them understood what they had seen. "You know my dad's Animagus form?" Harry asked. Snape didn't answer, but he said, "A stag. That's my Patronus." The Potions Master turned away.

Then above them, near the tunnel entrance where the dementors had gone, they heard screaming. "No! Begone! _Expecto_ _—_ no! You serve ME! You served the Dark Lord and obey his followers—get away—no!"

Harry stiffened, and Snape grabbed him. The screams of panic turned soon to torment, and Harry could see the dementors moving along the ridge after the desperately-fleeing figure of Lucius Malfoy. Snape reached out and gently-but-firmly turned Harry's face away, keeping an arm around his shoulders, but he couldn't have blocked out the screams even if he'd tried.

"NO! YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO YOUR MASTER'S—GET AWAY FROM ME—NO, HELP ME! SOMEONE PLEASE—DOLOHOV! CRABBE, ANYONE! HELP ME! No! Oh no—" The cries became less coherent, and Snape's grip tightened on Harry, letting him know the dementors had caught their prey.

"NO! NO! DO NOT—HELP, STOP! STOP IT! DRACO! I—DIDN'T—NO—DRACO, NO—DRACO! DRACOOO!"

And then there was silence. The air gradually grew warmer, the sun came back out, and Harry knew they were gone.

With Snape's help, he got to his feet again, and they began moving back down the hill together. But then they heard a noise from above them, and whirled around. Snape threw Harry to the ground, drawing his wand, but a hex impacted near their feet, knocking the Potions Master dangerously off-balance. "Snape! Geddown!" Harry yelled, drawing his own wand again and trying to scramble up, but their assailant was too quick.

Another curse quickly followed the first, and Harry lurched back in horror as Snape took the full impact of the hex directly in the chest. The force threw him off the face of the ridge, sending him crashing down over the rocks and hard roots to disappear from Harry's view.

Another curse, this one sent in Harry's direction, had him scrambling back behind an outcropping. Hexes struck the rock around him, sending splinters flying in every direction. Disoriented, Harry still managed to raise a Shield, since it was less difficult than a Patronus, but more curses soon split the air from below him. Looking back, he saw Sirius tearing up the hill, throwing hexes one after the other at whoever had attacked his godson, and only a moment later, there was a shriek of surprise, and the curses stopped.

Harry scrambled from behind his shelter, unable to see who Sirius had taken out, but his concern now was to find Snape. Keeping behind whatever cover was available, Harry climbed, and sometimes slid, down the side of the ridge. At the base of the slide, a black figure lay prone among the rocks.

As Harry reached him, Sirius came slipping and sliding down after them. "Harry! What the hell – oh god, Snape!" Sirius exclaimed.

"Did you get them?" Harry asked urgently as he checked over the desperately hurt man on the ground in front of him.

Sirius nodded, but his face was grim. "We need a Healer here – now. Stay with him, and stay _down_. That tunnel's not secure yet; the Order's on its way up. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Harry nodded, and half-listened to the sound of Sirius moving away, his attention focused on Snape. He lifted the man's head gently, transfiguring one of the rocks into a rolled-up blanket which he placed beneath Snape's head. At the movement, Snape gave a deep groan and opened his eyes.

"Professor?" Harry said. "Can you hear me?"

The man's lips moved, edged with blood. Harry hissed in dismay and wiped at it with the sleeve of his robe. Snape wrenched his face away. "Gedoff."

"Let me help," Harry said urgently, examining his wounded teacher and running his mind through all the first aid spells that he knew. He started to incant one to stop internal bleeding, but Snape smacked his wand away. "What're you doing? Cut that out!"

"Just go," Snape groaned. At Harry's astonished expression, he repeated, "Leave me."

"Of course I'm not leaving you!" Harry exclaimed, appalled. "Now hold still!" He tried again to start with healing spells, but Snape shoved him away.

"I need no Gryffindor spawn to tend me!" Snape hissed at him. Harry hesitated, startled, and the Potions Master sneered. "Are you enjoying yourself, Potter? Forcing me to owe you another debt?"

"I already owe you too many to count," Harry mumbled, trying to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing, but this familiar and highly-unwelcome attitude was disturbing him. It was as if the dementors had come back. "I'm just trying to help."

"Bah!" Snape said derisively, trying to wriggle away from Harry. "You and your mongrel godfather would love nothing more than to save every life in the wizarding world between you! Arrogant, like your father. And pathetic, like your werewolf."

"STOP IT!" Harry yelled, grabbing his shoulders. The man winced, and he pulled back, shaken. "I'm sorry."

Snape spat at him. "You have no more use for me, Potter, and I no more for you. Have the decency to leave your Gryffindor bravado alone for once and give me peace. Let…me…die!"

"No!" Harry cried. It made him sick to think of it. Why was he doing this? Why did he want to die here, now, alone on a hillside? He'd finally conjured a Patronus; he must have had a good thought, a very good memory. Of Draco, no doubt. "I don't want you to die," he said quietly.

Snape snorted, then coughed. "What you want is unimportant. Besides, what use has the wizarding world for a Death Eater spy, now that they are vanquished?"

"You're on our side," Harry said.

"Nonsense, you stupid brat. I did what I had to for survival. Nothing more. Spare your pity and condescension for someone who deserves it. Leave me to my fate as Lucius met his."

"No!" Harry grabbed his shoulders and shook him. The man hissed in pain, but at least it stopped him talking. "You DON'T deserve to die like this! I get it now; I see what you're doing, and I'm not going to let you! You're NOT going to die alone!"

Then he let go and started incanting First Aid Spells as fast as he could, buying them enough time for Sirius to return with the Healers. Snape glared bitterly at him. "Bloody Gryffindor nobility. You never allow anyone any peace."

"Shut up," Harry snapped.

* * *

 

After the Healers arrived and Portkeyed the wounded-but-stabilized Potions Master to St. Mungo's—amid much abuse from said Potions Master—Sirius and Harry returned to the valley where the Order was gathered. "It's more or less secure," Sirius told him. "The dementors appear to have turned on their handlers; quite a few of the poor bastards got themselves kissed, including Lucius Malfoy, incidentally."

"Do they think anyone got away?" Hermione asked, sitting down on a rock next to Harry to examine the back of his head.

"A few, maybe," said Lee Jordan, coming out of the woods with Fred and Penelope Clearwater. "Not enough to cause any serious trouble; all the top blokes are accounted for."

"In Azkaban or the morgue; good riddance either way," said Ginny, pulling Fred down to sit next to her so she could look him over. Pausing with her arms draped around her brother's neck, she peered past him at Harry and said, "What was eating Snape back there? We heard him ranting and raving all the way down the creek!"

Ron saw the expression on Harry's face and said quickly, "Who knows. People get cross when they're hurt. Harry, did you see the McGonagalls down here earlier when that band of Death Eaters tried to put up a fight? Fantastic! I knew she was no slouch, and figured he wasn't, but bloody hell, they were spectacular! Just going round and round each other; the two of them and a couple Aurors against almost a dozen Death Eaters—they were all down in about three minutes!"

"Wow," said Harry, trying to muster enthusiasm. "What's going on in there now?"

"More searches, by the look of it," said Sirius, sitting down next to him. "They'll be going over the place with a fine-toothed comb for days."

"Are we finished here then?" Lee asked.

Sirius nodded. "They'll be running us off any minute, I'm sure—"

A commotion in the woods brought them all to their feet. "Now what?" exclaimed Ginny, as Fred stepped in front of her, and Sirius did likewise with Harry.

"Probably just some stragglers," said Ron.

A red-robed figure came scrambling and stumbling out of the trees. Hermione exclaimed in alarm, but the Auror wasn't wounded…just clumsy. Tonks, her eyes wild, so excited she couldn't even seem to place her feet, rushed toward them across the creek bed and slipped on a wet rock, winding up sprawled full-length in the water. "Bloody hell, woman!" Sirius exclaimed, storming toward her to help her right herself. "Some Auror you are!"

She shoved him away and scrambled upright, pointing wildly at Fred and Ginny, who stared back at her in confusion. "You—go—they—he—here! No, wait! OY! Here! Come on—out here!"

Before any of them could process the completely incoherent attempt at communication, more Aurors could be seen coming out of the trees, leading people who weren't in Order robes. "What's all this?" muttered Lee.

"I dunno, I…" Ginny trailed off as the figures came into view. Not Death Eaters, but in torn and dirty day robes, some moving slowly with the aid of Aurors, one disheveled figure staggering along with a heavy burden in his arms…

Harry's chest tightened, his mind trying to process what he was seeing, and then Fred let out a plaintive, inarticulate cry like a frightened animal and started forward, only to wind up falling to his knees after only a few steps.

Then Ginny screamed, Ron started to cry, and the two of them rushed forward behind Sirius, toward the decidedly-worse-for-wear Mundungus Fletcher, who was carrying the wounded but definitely-alive George Weasley in his arms.

"DUNG!" Sirius yelled, sounding as if he was crying too. "You wonderful ass! Here, let me," he reached the other wizard and held out his arms for George, but Dung pulled away.

"Uh-uh, I got him…where's…" his weary eyes fell on Fred, who was still sitting, shivering, on the ground, with Tonks and Hermione apparently holding him upright, and he made his way toward him.

"George, George," Ginny sobbed, reaching for her brother's face, but Mundungus kept going until he sank to his knees in front of Fred.

"Here you go, boy," he said, and shifted the semiconscious George into the arms of his twin.

George mumbled something none of them could make out and simply buried his face in Fred's arms, and Fred simply held onto his twin and shook. Ginny sat on one side of them, Ron on the other, each wrapping their arms around the twins and hugging them, weeping and laughing.

"Are you okay?" Ron demanded, wiping at his face. "What happened?"

George was propped up in Fred's arms with his siblings' assistance, but all he did was embrace Ginny, then Ron, and curl up in his twin's grasp again. The Healers soon arrived, shooing the hysterical Ron and Ginny aside so they could look George over.

"Nothing serious. Needs a good rest, food and water, but all things considered, he's a lucky lad. All of you!" exclaimed the Healer. "How on earth did you survive in that hellhole?"

Mundungus leaned heavily on a tree stump, brushing off Hermione's attempts to transfigure him a cushion. "Thought we were done for, I can tell you," he sighed, closing his eyes. "We mighta been too, if it weren't for this lot's ghostly brother."

Ron turned and stared at him, and even Fred looked away from George's face for a moment. "Percy?"

Mundungus nodded. "So that's where he got to," Ginny breathed.

"Thought the Order'd sent him," said Dung in surprise.

Ron shook his head. "He just took off. We figured he was just upset."

"Oh, he was upset all right," Mundungus snorted. "Didn't know that lad was such a good haunt; scared the wits out of the gits when he showed up. Took George awhile to realize who he was. Wouldn't let the nasty buggers near us once he got here."

"So where is he?" Ginny demanded, standing and looking around, her hands on her hips as if she expected Percy to come floating through the trees.

"Think they may have bound him," said one of the other former prisoners, an Auror. "We heard them doing the spell, and he didn't come back, but by then they were off to fight."

Ron grimaced. "Well, I haven't seen him at Hogwarts, so they must've bound him here. Can you tell the Order to look for him?" he asked Tonks.

"Don't fret, we'll find him." She jogged off, able to keep her feet under her now that the initial hysteria had passed.

The Healers soon took Fred and George back to Hogwarts, along with Dung and the other former prisoners. "I guess we ought to be heading back too," said Sirius.

"What about Percy?" asked Ron.

"They'll find him," said Hermione. "Don't worry. A bonding spell is pretty easy to release; he'll be back soon. They probably just shut him in a closet."

He and Hermione had already gone, but Harry and Ginny were hanging back to talk with Sirius when Tonks came out of the woods again. Her face was solemn. Moody and Smythe-Wellington, sitting on a fallen log together and apparently enjoying themselves far too much, noticed her. "Tonks?" Moody called to her.

With an awkward glance at them, she went to the old Auror and conferred quietly with him for a few moments. Moody's face too turned sober, and he looked past her at Harry and Ginny. "Something's up," Harry murmured. He took Ginny's hand.

Tonks came back over to them. "Why don't you two come back with me? The place's secure." They nodded and mutely followed her, with Sirius at their heels.

Tonks led them down into the gray building that had housed the Death Eaters' headquarters, with an array of tunnels below it not unlike the place Harry had been held prisoner in after his fifth year. Several Aurors paused from their work to look at Harry and Ginny as they passed, but apparently, their presence wasn't cause for concern. They followed Tonks down to a deep tunnel that contained several small, stuffy, enclosed rooms.

"This was where the prisoners were," Ginny observed, shivering.

Tonks nodded. "Yeah. And when we were looking for Percy," she brought them to a patch of tunnel near the larger branch, "we found this."

On the ground were several candles, melted where they'd been arranged in a circle, and the odor of burnt herbs and Potions hung in the air. Harry's heart began to sink as he recognized the remnants, and figured out what ritual they had been used for.

Ginny gave a soft moan, and Sirius put his arms around her. "Oh no."

"I'm sorry," Tonks whispered, tears in her eyes.

Ginny sank to her knees next to the candles and fingered the herbs, letting them crumble. "Banished," she whispered, examining one candle after another as if looking for a clue to where Percy had been sent.

Harry turned to Tonks and Sirius. "He's gone?" They nodded. "Completely gone? What happens when a ghost is…"

Sirius shook his head, putting an arm around Harry's shoulders as Tonks went to pull Ginny to her feet. "Nobody really knows. The prevailing opinion is that a Banishing Spell forces the ghost to go on, beyond…wherever he should have gone to begin with."

Ginny was standing again, leaning against Tonks, and she took several deep breaths with her eyes closed. "Then…he wasn't really…hurt or anything. And he's…where he belongs. Safe."

Tonks forced a smile and squeezed her hand. "It's a safe bet. And the spell wouldn't have hurt him."

Ginny opened her eyes and smiled back, wiping her face. "And he saved George. Again." Harry went to hug her, and she gratefully rested her head on his shoulder. "He did what he wanted, then. And if he's gone on…then he's okay. He's…free."

* * *

 

Snape survived, but many people said that the Potions Master was never the same after the end of the war. He was as caustic as ever in class—maybe more so—but it seemed as if the venom had gone out of the man, along with much of his energy.

The end of Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts was a bit different from most students' final years at the school, but everyone agreed, he and his classmates deserved it. Instead of taking N.E.W.T.s in all their excruciating and miserable glory, the seventh-years, with the blessing of Madam Bones and Headmistress McGonagall , sat special sessions with the regular testers, where they received "assessments" of their skill levels.

"We all got automatic 'O's' in Defense," Ron laughed one day when they were having tea with Hagrid. "I guess they figured fighting a battle against Voldemort was more than test enough!"

"They shoulda just given yeh 'O's' for everything," Hagrid said. "Yeh deserve it!"

"Well, that'd be a bit much, Hagrid," Hermione replied. "After all, they have to see if we're really capable in some of the less-defensive things, like Potions and Herbology."

"Yeh had Potions today, didn't yeh?"

Hermione nodded. "Honestly, Snape groused as if we were all getting automatic passes!"

"He's just sore because Neville passed," said Ron. It was true: under Hermione's tutelage, Neville had attempted to sit the N.E.W.T. session independently, although Snape had been quite determined in the end to scare him out of it. But Neville Longbottom had been quite a force to be reckoned with on the Godric's Hollow battlefield, and since then, Professor Snape had found his favorite prey was all but immune to intimidation.

And so, it hadn't been with flying colors, but Neville Longbottom had received a passing mark in Potions, sufficient for him to continue his Healer studies.

There was to be a special Quidditch tournament for anyone in the Houses who wanted to play a few days before the end of term. Ron was playing on the combined Gryffindor-Hufflepuff team. Harry was not.

"Are you sure, mate?" Ron asked him as they headed for the pitch.

"Pomfrey says I'm grounded because of the concussion," Harry said. "And even if I weren't…" he shrugged. "I guess I've just gone off it a bit."

Ginny, also playing, looked at him sympathetically. "I don't blame you for not wanting any more excitement. Look at it this way, Ron, all the talent scouts will be watching you instead of him."

Harry grinned. "And you get to ride my Firebolt," he added, passing the broomstick to his friend.

Ron took it reverently. "I'll take care of it. And what do you mean 'excitement?' You still signed up for the Auror Program!"

"By the time a few months have gone by, he'll be bored," Hermione said, running to join them. "We better hurry if we want good seats. Ron, I just saw Oliver Wood! He's here with a couple of Puddlemere's players!"

"Really? Great! Don't let him get away after the game before I have a chance to say hello," Ron insisted, and they promised.

"Good luck!" Harry and Hermione waved vigorously from the entrance to the pitch as Ron and Ginny took off with the rest of their team.

Hermione grinned at him. "Ever think that it suddenly feels like we're starting over?"

Laughing, Harry shook his head. "Yeah. I thought it was just me."

* * *

There was much excitement on the day the Hogwarts Express arrived, as students rushed around, embracing each other, saying their farewells, and reminiscing on what an incredible year it had been (in both the good ways and the bad ways.) In particular, the entire first-through-sixth-year population of Hogwarts seemed to want to say goodbye to Harry.

 

He finally got himself away from his classmates' attentions and slipped down to the dungeons. Blaise had told him that Snape wasn't planning to come to the platform with the teachers to say goodbyes, so Harry nervously went to find him.

The dungeons were full of boxes, and the house elves were hard at work. Harry was a little shaken when he found Snape's office half-empty, with the Potions Master apparently packing up all his belongings. "Sir?"

Snape glanced over his shoulder with a handful of jars, saw Harry, and turned around again, depositing them in another crate. "Have you forgotten how to knock, Potter?"

"Your door was open."

Snape ignored that. "What do you want?"

"I was wondering…" For heaven's sake, he had killed Voldemort; why was talking to Snape making him nervous after all this time? "I was wondering why you're…packing."

Still not looking at him, Snape replied, "I don't believe that's any of your business."

"I just wanted to know," Harry said, frustration burning inside him. Why was Snape still being this way?

After a few moments of Harry still standing in his doorway, Snape finally said, "I will not be the Potions instructor for Hogwarts next year. I have—at last—been granted the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor over the protests of the Board of Governors, not to mention numerous parents."

Harry frowned, looking at the half-empty shelves on the walls. "Why would they protest?"

Snape finally looked at him, with a definite sneer on his face. "Surely your Gryffindor self-righteousness can figure that one out, Potter. I am a Death Eater, a former servant of evil, an irredeemable plague upon the world of decent men. I should by all rights be in Azkaban."

"But you came back to our side," Harry said, tired of Snape's games.

"That counts for little in the eyes of the general public," Snape replied, and turned away again.

"Oh." Harry fought the urge to sigh. It was clear that now that the war was over, Snape no longer saw any need for them to continue their alliance of the past two years, and was as harsh toward him as he had been in Harry's fifth year. "Well. I'm leaving on the Hogwarts Express soon, and…"

Snape snorted. "Returning with your godfather to that mansion of his, I suppose."

"Actually, he's getting rid of it now that the war's over. We've taken a cottage in Ottery St. Catchpole, near the Burrow. We wanted to be out in the country."

"Good for you. It sounds perfectly insipid."

This time, he did sigh. "Look…I just didn't want you to die. Not like that. Not alone."

"And what, pray tell, gave you the right to decide how I deserved to die?" Snape asked curtly.

"Never said I had the right," Harry replied. "But with all due respect, you were never the best judge of people either, _sir._ Least of all yourself." At Snape's startled reaction, he said, "You didn't deserve what you thought." Snape stared at him for a moment, his face expressionless, then turned back to his packing crates without a word. Frustrated, Harry finally blurted out, "Did any of us ever really matter to you, or was it just because you wanted to survive the war?"

Snape dropped a jar to shatter on the ground and turned to look at him, with the most awful smile Harry had ever seen. "Potter, I believe I can safely say that in all the years I have taught you, that must rank as the single most asinine question I have ever heard you utter."

Harry swallowed hard. "Yeah," he said tightly. "I guess it was. Well. In that case, thank you for saving my life, even though I know it wasn't my life that mattered to you." Snape didn't deny it. "And I'll say goodbye now."

"Thank god," Snape muttered, but swept out his arm and gave Harry a mocking bow. "Goodbye, Mr. Potter."

Fearing his emotions would get the better of him, Harry spun around and tore out of the office, down the hall to the stairs. However, he only made it up about three of them before he stopped, bent over with his arms wrapped around his stomach in sheer frustration. He stood like that for a few minutes, trying to catch his breath, and finally stared back over his shoulder at Snape's office door, his insides burning with hurt. He couldn't figure out why Snape could still manage to make him feel so miserable after all this time, after everything that had happened.

He stared at the door for a few moments longer until he realized, with a surge of disgust at himself, that he was hoping the Potions Master would come out after him. He sighed heavily, turned around—and found himself face-to-face with Snape.

* * *

 

Severus had a talent for stealth that all students were aware of but usually failed to take into account—as did Potter, which made it easy for the Potions Master to slip ahead of the boy on the stairs. On the other hand, it forced him to grab Potter, when the silly child leapt backward and shouted, to keep him from flying right off the stairs.

"What are you trying to do, give me another concussion?" the boy shrieked once he recovered his balance (and his wits.)

Snape opened his mouth, intending to make a snide remark on Harry Potter's awareness of his surroundings, but to his intense discomfiture, nothing came out. And it left them both with far too much time and silence to stare at each other. Severus had no idea how or why he had wound up going after Harry, but here they were, and for the life of him, he could not seem to come up with a plausible explanation.

Worse yet, Potter did. With a pinched, tense expression that Severus had seen him wearing quite often of late, the boy asked quietly, "If you didn't give a damn about me, why didn't you run from the Dementors? You'd have got away easily if you hadn't been dragging me along. The war was over; you didn't need me anymore." Drawing a shaky breath, regarding Severus with an unguarded gaze that affected the Potions Master far more than he would have imagined possible, he whispered, "Until you realized you could conjure a Patronus, there was nothing you could do to stop them. They'd have just killed you. Why didn't you let me die?"

In lieu of answering, Severus put a silent hand on the increasingly-distraught teenager's shoulder and guided him back into the office, closing the door behind them. Harry dropped onto a closed wooden crate and pressed his head into his knees. Severus, cursing himself for his own weakness even as the boy struggled against a complete loss of control, found a bottle of Calming Draught and handed it to him. "You know the reason."

"Then why are you…now, why are you…" Harry stared at him with confused, wounded green eyes, and forced Severus to turn away.

"Because I don't want to be hailed as a bloody hero by the great Harry Potter!" Severus snapped. The boy winced. More quietly, he went on, "My company will only cause you difficulty in the aftermath of the war, Potter. I did not exaggerate the public's…misgivings about me. Nor would I be so conceited as to claim they are wrong."

Harry stood up. "What happened to Draco wasn't your fault."

It was as if something exploded inside his chest; Severus found himself across the office in a flash, grabbing the boy by the arms and nearly knocking him backward over the crate. "Do NOT speak of him again, do you understand me?"

However fragile his emotions in other respects, Harry Potter had gained one strength after the defeat of the Dark Lord: physical intimidation no longer worked on him…to Snape's irritation. The boy stiffened only slightly in Snape's tight grip and remarked, "I always wondered if you'd wind up hitting me some day."

"I struck you in your sixth year, if you will recall," Severus replied curtly, releasing him and turning away to resume packing. He wanted Potter to leave again. He should never have gone after the stupid child. He still didn't know why he'd done it.

"That doesn't count," Harry said behind him. "You wouldn't have slapped me if I hadn't fainted. Oh, I know you enjoyed it," he added, as Severus turned back to argue the point. "But you wouldn't have done it if I hadn't given you the opportunity. At least not then." He folded his arms stubbornly and fixed Severus with a hard gaze that startled the Potions Master. The reticent boy who had been quietly wandering the halls of Hogwarts and sitting out Quidditch games and avoiding crowds at all costs had suddenly disappeared, replaced by a very determined young man. "And maybe you've forgotten, but I promised Draco I'd give you a message from him. I nearly died to give you that message, so I'll talk about him to you if I bloody well want to!" He didn't shout, but there was enough force behind his words that he didn't have to. Then he suddenly sighed, almost wilting, and the boy was back, quiet and sad. "I know what it's like, to…blame yourself."

Severus stood there, among his packing crates and ledgers, on a move to a position that would have given him nothing but elation a year ago, but now mattered next to nothing. The worst thing was that he could not contradict the upstart standing in front of him, even at Potter's most vulnerable. There was too much truth in the boy's words. Severus had seen it in his mind often enough.

"My decisions with regard to…my situation now…are not only due to Draco," he heard himself say. "My life has revolved around nothing but the war against Voldemort, Potter—far longer than you have been alive. Now that my duties in that respect are over, if I am entitled to anything, then I want peace. To be left alone. Entirely alone."

Harry actually shivered. "Why?" he whispered.

"Not everyone shares your desire for…companionship," Snape told him. That was, he supposed, the fundamental difference between them. For all that he and Potter had wound up with in common over the course of the war, there were some aspects of Severus Snape's life that a lonely, haunted, and still-innocent teenager could not begin to comprehend. Nor would it be any use to try and explain. To explain would open him to the child's understanding, and that was the last thing Severus wanted to happen.

Looking awkwardly away from him, Harry said, "Look…if that's really what you…want…" His face twisted as if the thought physically pained him. "Then I…I won't…bother you again." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Severus gritted his teeth and willed himself to stand still. "I just…after the fight with Malfoy, I didn't want you to…to die alone," he fixed an anxious gaze on Severus that reminded the older man far too much of Draco. "I could tell, you just…thought you deserved it, and you don't and…" he hastily looked away again.

"Harry." The boy looked at him and blinked, startled by the address. "I spent nearly five years in the Dark Lord's service before returning to Dumbledore. If you knew what I did during that time, you would not be so swift to excuse it, or to tell me that I deserve a kind fate."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe not. But the point is, I…I know what you did for a lot longer for our side. And I know what you did for me, for…all of us. You're not like him," he said softly. "You're not like Malfoy or Voldemort. And you'll never deserve to die like they did." At Snape's stunned expression, he said, "That was why you wanted me to leave, right? Voldemort died on the battlefield; the Death Eaters ran away. No one called him back. And Malfoy…" he swallowed, and went on, "You're not a monster. You didn't deserve what they got."

"Thank you for the assessment, Potter."

He meant it to be sarcastic. But somehow, it didn't come out that way.

"D'you still want me to go? I mean, and not come back?" Damn. He had that Draco look again. Harry Potter was Sirius Black's godson; Severus Snape had no right to claim a place in this boy's life. Virtual patron saint of the wizarding world, a former Death Eater wouldn't be thought fit to clean the boy's shoes.

Gathering his wits, Severus told Harry, "Our acquaintance has been unpleasant even in its best moments, Potter, and there were few of those. You no longer have need of a teacher in Potions or Occlumency at Hogwarts. Any continued…contact between us will expose us both to considerable difficulty." He steeled himself as the boy lowered his eyes. "Harry. You and your godfather are going to live next-door to your friends. You will soon be training as an Auror. The sooner you leave things associated with the war behind, the sooner you will recover." Harry cringed, and Severus drove the point home. "The staff here is well aware of the difficulties you have had since it ended. That is why you left the Quidditch game early and avoid public attention even more than you used to."

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "I just don't like noise. It bothers me. Maybe it's my head," he said in a challenging tone.

"In a manner of speaking," Severus replied, and Harry glared at him.

"You've talked about nothing but me. I think I ought to decide what's best for me. I said I'd stay away if you wanted me to." He lifted his chin. "If _you_ do."

Severus took a deep breath. "I would prefer it if you did." Harry made a valiant effort to hide his distress. "I will not continue to insult you by claiming no…concern for you. But I was being truthful: I am most content when left alone. And where Harry Potter goes, notoriety follows."

Harry choked out a laugh and looked away. "Well, I've got to put up with it."

"The public is more sympathetic to you than to me. They will abide by your wishes."

"Since when?" the boy demanded.

"You might try asking," Severus suggested. "I thank you for your concerns. But I would prefer the peace of an anonymous life."

The office was quiet but for the sounds of the boy's breathing, slow and deep as he struggled with his volatile emotions. Severus knew Minerva, Black, and the Weasleys were paying more than enough attention to Harry's mental well-being in the war's wake. They would see to the boy's needs. After a minute, Harry murmured, "Okay. If that's what you really want."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter."

But Harry finally fixed him with that determined, adult look again, and added, "But I owe you a lot, sir. And whether you want to be forgotten by everyone or not, I won't. I promise you that, whether you like it or not. You won't die like one of them."

Severus fought the urge to sigh. With luck, the demands of adult life and family would push the silly, almost Hufflepuff-ish loyalty out of the boy's mind in a few years. "As you will." He watched Harry go to the door, and forced himself to remain, standing stiffly, where he was.

"Goodbye, Mr. Potter."

"Goodbye, sir."


	50. Interlude: The Everlasting Present

**_Order of Merlin, First Class, Awarded to War Heroes!_ **

_The Boy-Who-Lived, former fugitive Sirius Black, and Hogwarts Headmistress Minerva McGonagall were among the dozens of members of the legendary Order of the Phoenix to be awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, for their heroism in the war against the now-deceased Dark Lord Voldemort. Other recipients of the wizarding world's highest honor include Harry Potter's classmates Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Ginevra Weasley, and Seamus Finnegan._

_St. Mungo's released four Aurors last weekend who were rescued from imprisonment in Death Eater headquarters. All have been given extended leaves to recuperate from their injuries, and Auror Program spokeswoman Nymphadora Tonks has told The Prophet that Magical Law Enforcement will see to it that the needs of these brave witches and wizards are met during their recovery until and if they are able to return to work._

_The last of the trials of captured Death Eaters are expected to take place by the end of June. A sentence of life imprisonment in Azkaban is expected to be imposed upon Antonin Dolohov, Vincent Crabbe, Sr., and the others captured in the days following the Battle of Godric's Hollow._

_Other participants in the war received Order of Merlin, Second Class._

* * *

**_Wizard Hero Weasley Signs With Chudley Cannons!_ **

_Young Ronald Weasley, recent graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and renowned hero of the war against Voldemort, has signed a two-year contract with the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team._

_"This is a dream come true," Weasley told the Prophet at the reception following the signing. "I didn't realize they'd be at the last game I played at Hogwarts, but I guess I impressed them!"_

_Several Quidditch experts have said that Weasley's talents as a Quidditch Keeper are too good to waste on a team with a record as bad as the Cannons, but although the young wizard received multiple offers, including some far more lucrative than anything Chudley could propose, his loyalty to his favorite team was absolute._

_"Ron's like that," said Harry Potter, who attended the signing at his friend's side. "The Cannons are lucky to get him."_

* * *

_Dear Editor,_

 

_I wish to state, for the record, that I am appalled to see that Severus Snape received an Order of Merlin for his role in the war. Whatever that terrible man may have done for our side, it does not excuse the dreadful things that he must have done while still serving the Dark Lord. An Order of Merlin, even Second Class, is far more than he deserves._

_If that man deserves anything, it's life in Azkaban!_

_Signed,_

_Miss Agatha Prunes, a concerned citizen._

* * *

**_You Are Cordially Invited to the Wedding Celebration of…_ **

**_Mr. William Weasley_ **

**_And_ **

**_Miss Fleur Delacour!_ **

**_William Weasley and Fleur Delacour will celebrate their nuptials on April 7th, 1998 in Ottery St. Catchpole. The reception will take place at the home of the groom._ **

**_Please RSVP by December 31st, 1997 to Mrs. Molly Weasley or Miss Gabrielle Delacour._ **

* * *

 

_Ron,_

_How's off-season training going? Are the Cannons treating you well?_

_I'm in orientation at the Ministry for the Auror Program. Pretty boring, so far, but I gather it gets more interesting as it goes along. I spent all day yesterday carrying messages around; what are we, owls or something? At least that's what Zabini said._

_I ran into Penelope Clearwater yesterday; she's about to qualify as a full Auror, but she gave us a lot of good advice about first year of training. She also gave me a couple of pictures of Percy for your Mum. They're enclosed (I think Percy was drunk in the second one.)_

_Let me know when you'll be in London next. I'm meeting Hermione and Ginny for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron on Thursday, and I'm going to Brighton with Sirius this weekend._

_Best,_

_Harry._

* * *

 

_Harry,_

_I'm having the greatest time of my life here! I miss you and everyone back home, but I like playing Quidditch all day better than I would've liked being an Auror, I think. At least you get to see Hermione sometimes—and don't get any ideas! Tell Zabini not to get any ideas either. I don't trust that Slytherin._

_I've sent you all season tickets for the games. I know you can't make it to all of them with your Auror training, but you bloody better get to my first one! I signed a bloody AUTOGRAPH yesterday, can you believe it? It wasn't even a game, but a girl from Shrewsbury was watching us practice and asked me for an autograph! She got Haverstein to take a picture of us!_

_The team's off the week after next for some much-deserved rest, so I'll be staying at the Burrow (and trying to get out of having to help with all the improvements Mum and Dad have been making to it—sure it looks nice, but I need my R & R, mate!) The twins wrote me about this new club in Muggle London called The Dusty Wombat that they really like; if you get an evening off (and the day off after) we should go._

_Ron._

* * *

**_Special Edition: The Boy-Who-Lived…One Year Later!_ **

_One year after the official end of the war as declared by Minister Bones, Rita Skeeter takes a look at how far the wizarding world's hero has come._

_Harry Potter, 18, recently began the Ministry's Auror Training Program, and early reports from a few anonymous sources state that the young man already shows more promise in Magical Law Enforcement than any recruit in the past ten years._

_"But then, who expected anything else?" our source said._

* * *

 

**_News Knut:_ **

_Hogwarts Headmistress Minerva McGonagall told the Board of Governors in last night's meeting that her decision with regard to the employment of former Death Eater Severus Snape was final. The Board of Governors had presented Headmistress McGonagall with a petition signed by over 1,000 members of the wizarding public, requesting the removal of Snape as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts._

_"As you know," the Headmistress told reporters in a brief statement. "I have final say regarding the employment of teachers at Hogwarts. I chose Professor Snape for the position, and that is all I have to say on the subject."_

_Although cleared by the Ministry of all charges in relation to his activities as a Death Eater, Snape remains a source of controversy and public concern as the last of Lord Voldemort's former followers are being sought out for justice._

* * *

**_GRAND RE-OPENING!_ **

**_JOIN US IN HOGSMEADE VILLAGE FOR FUN AND LAUGHTER AT THE GRAND RE-OPENING OF ZONKO'S JOKE SHOP!_ **

_One of Hogsmeade's most beloved landmarks will be back in business this weekend under the proprietorship of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, in accordance with the late Mr. Zonko's will. Hogsmeade suffered the tragic loss of the shop's entrepreneur in the April 12th, 1997 attack, but Mr. Zonko had been heard to say before that the laughter business would be in good hands with Fred and George Weasley, who had previously begun a partnership with Mr. Zonko's business._

_"We're going to keep the shop just the way he liked it," Fred Weasley told The Daily Prophet. "It's tradition. No one in Hogsmeade will ever forget him, and the best tribute we can give him is to keep laughing."_

_The cleanup of wizarding Britain's favorite village is nearly complete, eighteen months after a devastating attack near the end of the Death Eater Wars that razed the town nearly to the ground. The re-opening of Zonko's Joke Shop is being hailed by village residents and wizards far and wide as a symbol of the village's recovery and resilience._

* * *

 

_Dear Molly,_

_He did it. Ron proposed to her. Harry just told me._

_Sirius._

_PS—She said yes._

* * *

 

_Dear Sirius,_

_Excellent. Two down, five to go._

_Molly._

_PS—That includes Harry, of course._

* * *

**_CHUDLEY_ ** **_CANNONS WIN FIRST QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP IN OVER A CENTURY!_ **

_Quidditch_ _stadium and all of Britain erupts in celebration!_

_There was not a dry eye on the pitch this afternoon as one of Britain's oldest and most beloved Quidditch teams soared back to victory after one of the longest dry spells in the sport's history! "Abso-bloody-lutely fan-bloody-tastic!" sobbed Mr. Cyril Huffington-Pickett with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a Cannons flag in the other as the party raged on into the wee hours at Burffle's Pub in London. "I've been—hic!—waiting for this one all me life!"_

_Both Cannons fans and team members credit the team's spectacular performance this year to Keeper Ronald Weasley, now in his third year on the team. "Weasley is our king!" sang Chaser Maggie Thompson on her way to the team locker room._

_Weasley_ _paraphernalia is one of the hottest-selling items in this year's Quidditch collector's guides, and enthusiasts are reportedly offering hundreds of Galleons for an original "Weasley Is Our King" badge from Weasley's days as a Keeper at Hogwarts._

_Former Hogwarts student Blaise Zabini reportedly parted with one such badge for no less than four hundred Galleons, a Nimbus 3000 broomstick, and an offer of the purchaser's daughter's hand in marriage, which Zabini graciously declined. "She was lovely, but I'm engaged," Zabini reported. "Anyway, I've still got another badge—sorry, I'm keeping that one!"_

_As for Weasley himself, when the Prophet caught up with him in the mayhem following the Cannons' victory, he told us, "This is the second-best thing to ever happen to me."_

_An odd statement, you say? Perhaps not, when you consider that Mr. Weasley made the statement surrounded by his family and friends, with his arm around his new bride, Hermione Granger-Weasley. Weasley and Granger were married last weekend in a private family ceremony. The Daily Prophet has also heard that Harry Potter, also known as the Boy-Who-Lived, was Weasley's best man._

* * *

**_Hogsmeade_ ** **_Celebrates Double Wedding!_ **

_For the first time in the town's history, all shops were closed and residents took to the streets to celebrate the marriages of Fred Weasley and former schoolmate Angelina Johnson, and George Weasley and his Australian bride, Henrietta "Hetty" Webster. Flanked by best men Lee Jordan and Charlie Weasley, the beloved owners of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and Zonko's Joke Shop tied the knots amidst a crowd of family, friends, and well-wishers._

_The Weasleys, one of the most upstanding families of the wizarding world, spared no expense on this joyous occasion. The incredible display of fireworks, courtesy of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, was so bright that residents of Muggle London were reporting an attack by UFOs._

* * *

 

_Harry,_

_HELP!_ _She's pregnant, and if you think she was hard to deal with before…think studying for NEWTs multiplied a hundred times! I'm not going to survive this…I know I'm not!_

_She's got all these books about childbirth and pregnancy, all these details that I cannot possibly describe to you how much I DON'T want to know, but I can't very well tell her to knock it off, can I? I mean, she'd KILL me! Anytime I start to suggest (gently, mind you) that she's just maybe reading a little too much and worrying too much, she starts yelling that this is MY baby and it's all MY fault and how I have no idea what women have to go through._

_I mean, yeah, I know I'm responsible for her being pregnant and all—but I'm not responsible for bloody biology! I would gladly help with having a baby, if I could, but I can't, and it's not my bloody choice is it? But does SHE care? Of course not!_

_I am NOT going to make it._

_Ron._

* * *

 

_Ron,_

_What the hell do you expect me to do? It's not as if she'll listen to me in this state! I'd say practice your Shielding Charms and Bludger-Dodging, not that I'm any expert on dealing with pregnant girls._

_Harry._

* * *

 

_Harry,_

_You're enjoying this, aren't you?_

_Ron._

* * *

 

_Ron,_

_Maybe just a bit._

_Harry._

* * *

**_IT'S A BOY!_ **

**_Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger-Weasley are pleased to announce the birth of their son, Percy Andrew Weasley, born September 4th at 9:22 a.m., weighing 9 lbs. 4 ½ oz._ **

* * *

**_BOY-WHO-LIVED MARRIES WEASLEY DAUGHTER_ **

_Yes, ladies, he's finally done it. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived became the Boy-Who-Said-"I do" when he married lovely Ginevra Molly Weasley, the only daughter of Arthur and Molly Weasley. With best man, Ronald Weasley, and Matron of Honor, Hermione Granger-Weasley in attendance, the wedding of the year took place in Weasley Manor, the home of brothers George and Fred Weasley and their wives._

_The crowd of well-wishers that gathered outside the Manor was so large that extra security was called in to maintain control. Wizarding Britain joins their family and friends in wishing the best of everything to Harry Potter and his new bride._

* * *

 

_Ron,_

_HELP! She's pregnant! You know what your sister is like – this is much, much worse! I'm not going to survive this – I know I'm not!_

_Taking out Voldemort was nothing compared to her! One minute she's all happy and excited and talking about what we're going to do when the baby comes—that I can live with! I'm excited too, but then all of a sudden, she's in front of the mirror, crying about being fat and ugly—I mean, I know you don't want to think of your sister like that, but this is GINNY we're talking about, and she couldn't be ugly if—anyway, and if I try to tell her that, she starts YELLING at me! I'm bloody trying to make her feel better and I get coshed with a bottle of Helen's Heavenly Hair Potion for my trouble!_

_How did you get through nine whole months of this? I'm dying!_

_Harry._

* * *

 

_Harry,_

_Blimey, that was quick._

_Ron._

* * *

 

_Ron,_

_DO YOU KNOW WHY I'M SENDING YOU A BLOODY HOWLER! I'LL TELL YOU WHY—SHE'S HAVING TWINS! **NOW** WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?_

_Harry_

* * *

 

_Harry,_

_Sorry, mate, it runs in the family. Good luck!_

_Ron._

* * *

**_IT'S A GIRL! AND…IT'S A BOY!_ **

**_Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley Potter are pleased to announce the birth of their daughter, Lily Eileen Potter, born December 10th at 4:03 a.m., weighing 6 lbs. 2 oz, and their son, Remus James Potter, born December 10th at 4:14 a.m., weighing 7 lbs. 1 oz._ **

* * *

**_Ministry Passes New Werewolf Legislation!_ **

_New Measures Lobbied For Heavily By Harry Potter…_

_Minister of Magic Amelia Bones signed a series of measures today aimed at assistance to victims of Lycanthropy and their families. Lycanthropy, better known as the Werewolf Bite, results in the bitten individual becoming a werewolf every month on the full moon. Thanks to a Potions breakthrough approximately twenty years ago, the condition can be controlled so that the sufferer is no longer a danger to himself or others._

_The new laws include financial assistance for the purchase and preparation of the Wolfsbane Potion, anti-discrimination ordinances relating to employment, and new educational decrees intended to increase awareness of Lycanthropy and end the stigma surrounding it._

_Harry Potter, known by many in the wizarding world as the Boy-Who-Lived as well as the destroyer of the Dark Lord Voldemort ten years ago, pushed heavily for the passage of these laws, in memory of his former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts and close family friend, Remus J. Lupin. Mr. Lupin, a victim of Lycanthropy since his childhood, taught Defense at Hogwarts in 1993 and 1996 to 1997, until his death in the March 3rd, 1997 attack by Death Eaters at Hogwarts. Many of the bill's supporters referred to the package as "Lupin Laws."_

_"Remus always had trouble finding work because of the prejudice about werewolves," Potter told the Prophet shortly after the bills were passed. "He deserved better. He was a hero, and the least we can do for his memory is make sure no one else has to suffer from a stigma like this."_

_Remus Lupin is reportedly the namesake for Potter's firstborn son._

* * *

**_LAST WEASLEY SIBLING TIES THE KNOT!_ **

_In a private ceremony at the Weasley family home, Charlie Weasley married long-time companion Nymphadora Tonks. The happy couple were attended by best man, brother William Weasley, and Matron of Honor, Ginevra Weasley Potter. During the ceremony, the bride appeared flustered when addressed by barrister Murdo McGonagall who conducted the marriage, by her first name._

_Later, the bride was heard to state, "I don't intend to give up my last name, but any bloke can have my first name if he wants it!"_

* * *

**_Ribbon-Cutting Ceremony Opens New Association For Magical Rights!_ **

_Heroes of the Death Eater Wars in attendance…_

_The Minister of Magic hailed today's special opening as thebeginning of a new era for the defense of moral rights in the wizarding world, in a brief statement at the reception following the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the new Association for Magical Rights in London._

_The Association's Founder and President is Hermione Granger-Weasley, celebrated heroine of the Second Death Eater War, known especially as a symbol of the courage of Muggleborn witches and wizards who fought against blood prejudice at great risk to themselves throughout the struggle against Lord Voldemort, leader of the Death Eaters. Also a Seer, Madam Weasley has devoted much of her early career at the Ministry of Magic to defending the rights of traditionally-disadvantaged members of the wizarding world, from Muggleborn schoolchildren to house elves._

_"My hope is that the Association will be able to work toward all these goals," Madam Weasley told reporters in a press conference following the ribbon-cutting. "The wizarding world must be educated and made aware that the ability and right to take full advantage of all that the magical world offers us does not come to everyone automatically, but we must do everything in our power to make it so. All magical creatures and magical beings deserve to be treated fairly by our people."_

_The Association is already hard at work, pushing for reform of laws concerning Magical Beasts and Beings, and Madam Weasley reports that they hope to present a legislation package to the Ministry by the end of the year._

* * *

**_MINISTER OF MAGIC TO STEP DOWN!_ **

_Public calling for Death Eater War hero to fill the vacancy…_

_After over twenty years in office, Madam Amelia Bones has announced that she is retiring as Minister of Magic. Although Minister Bones has had an excellent record, with high approval ratings among the wizarding public and much praise from other wizarding nations, the eyes of wizarding Britain are now looking ahead, wondering who can be found to take Bones's place._

_"Madam Bones will be deeply missed," said Mr. Blaise Zabini, head of Magical Law Enforcement. "But as for her successor, we've got a few ideas."_

_Already, the voice of the people has been heard requesting one of the wizarding world's most renowned individuals to take the place that many have said he deserved all along—headof the Ministry of Magic. No word has been heard from Harry Potter or his colleagues in the Auror Program on whether he will consider running for the office, but an unconfirmed report is that Madam Bones would support Potter first and foremost as her successor, if he chose to seek the position._

_The Daily Prophet will bring more updates on the campaign as it begins._

* * *

**_Daily Prophet Special Report:_ **

**_POTTER TO RUN FOR MINISTER OF MAGIC!_ **

_Details to follow…_

* * *

 

**_Campaign News Bulletin:_ **

**_Potter Holds Commanding Lead in Early Polls!_ **

_Details to follow…_

* * *

**_Election Night Early Results:_ **

**_POTTER WINS!_ **

**_Major figure in wizarding Britain to be new Minister of Magic!_ **

* * *

 

**_Daily Prophet  
_ ** **Page 9**

_News Knut:_

_Former Death Eater Severus Snape was admitted to St. Mungo's last night. Although the 63-year-old wizard is hardly aged by magical standards, one St. Mungo's staff member who asked to remain anonymous said, "The man's wickedness in life has finally caught up with him. Poetic justice, I say, his bad health."_

_Snape, who retired as Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher roughly ten years ago, received the Order of Merlin, Second Class, for his spy activities in the Death Eater Wars, although many in the wizarding public felt the honor undeserved, and that Snape should have been held accountable for his actions in service of Lord Voldemort. Many complaints were also made about him as a Professor during his career at Hogwarts._

_"I don't know how he was shielded from public retaliation for Death Eater crimes," Mr. Gussy Fipps, a citizen of wizarding Britain, told the Prophet. "Obviously the man had powerful friends."_

_St. Mungo's made no official statement on the exact nature of Snape's condition, or the prognosis, but the Prophet has an unconfirmed report that he is not expected to live longer than a few days._


	51. Epilogue: Changed For Good

One of the advantages of St. Mungo's over the Hogwarts hospital wing was the better Sound-Dampening charms in the walls of the private rooms. As a result when Severus was left alone—and he usually was—there was nearly total silence. The bare, white walls and the clean, repeat-Scourgify smell only added to the sensation of being completely isolated, of solitude. Which was precisely how Snape liked it. The Healers and staff who came by now and then to check on him had very little to say; it went against their grain to report bad news, but Severus knew enough about human biology and wizard ailments to be aware of the prognosis. On the other hand, they spared little more than the requisite professional courtesies to their patient.

Who cared a wit about a dying, old ex-Death Eater?

As it happened, neither did he. Severus was only sorry that his wild youth (put diplomatically) had not caught up with him sooner. His reaction had been quiet amusement the last time he'd been to Hogwarts five years ago, when Madam Pomfrey had reluctantly told him his health was starting to fail.

Life as a soldier had its costs. Life as a spy in the service of a creature who adored pain and suffering even from his followers had serious consequences for one who lived that way for years. Severus had known what the cost would be to his health and life expectancy even when he had offered to return to Voldemort's side as a spy. It had been one of his least pressing concerns in making the decision.

He had allowed Minerva and Poppy to escort him to St. Mungo's, but then extracted a promise from each of them not to return, and to make it clear to the other members of the former Order that he did not desire visitors. He wished to spend his last days as he had spent the last twenty-five years: alone, in peace.

So it was something of a shock to him—although perhaps it shouldn't have been, considering—when the attendant witch on duty stuck her head through the door and said, "You have a visitor, Mr. Snape."

And before Severus could respond, in walked a man, not terribly tall and slight in stature, with untidy black hair and bright green eyes.

Breathing was difficult enough these days; it was several minutes before Severus could speak. So his visitor spoke first. "Hello, Professor."

Even a self-designed hermit such as Severus Snape could not have failed to observe the progress of Harry Potter's life over the years. The _Daily Prophet_ still printed a front-page story if the boy so much as sneezed. The wizarding public never got enough of him.

Of course, he was hardly a boy anymore. But he looked far younger than Severus and his contemporaries had when they were that age. The boy who had lived through war as a child had found peace as a man, and had spent his adulthood without the shadow of fear hanging over him as it had over the previous generation. It showed now in him, a healthy wizard in his prime, his large eyes bright and alert. Although…there was a difference between Potter and others his age. His green eyes, unusual in their own right, had a wisdom, and understanding that men thrice his age often could not boast.

It startled Severus somewhat to realize that something in Harry Potter's eyes reminded him of Albus Dumbledore.

Then it occurred to him that his visitor was still waiting for an answer. "Potter. I suppose I should have expected this."

He had always been unpredictable as a child…defiant and headstrong one minute, frightened and vulnerable the next. Apparently, that hadn't changed; all at once, Severus fancied he could see the boy, innocent, so easily provoked to anger or hurt, standing where the man had been a moment ago.

"I did what you asked," he said softly, making no move to come further into the room. "I stayed away."

Perhaps it had been Snape's imagination after all…as unguardedly sad as Harry's gaze was, it was also steady. Instinctively, Severus tested his defenses. "Until now, I see. You never could keep from intruding where you did not belong."

To his surprise, Harry chuckled. "And you could never keep from baiting people, sir. We've both always been set in our habits." Taking advantage of Snape's reaction, he added, "Besides, you knew you would see me at least once more. I promised, remember?"

What the devil was he talking about—oh. _"Whether you want to be forgotten or not, I won't. And you won't die like one of them."_ So he did know his former professor, bane of his childhood, was dying. It saved Severus the difficulty of having to tell him. He changed the subject. "How is the Minister?"

"She's fine. She's here, actually. She came with me."

 _But she didn't wish to join her husband in paying her respects to old Snape,_ he translated. He wasn't surprised, and knew the lady's motives had nothing to do with the political implications of the Minister of Magic visiting an ex-Death Eater. Minister of Magic Ginevra Potter, like her mother, had a long memory where slights to Harry were concerned. The Weasleys had never forgiven him for sending Harry away. But that was always the case with that family's thinking; Severus's reasons hadn't mattered, however correct or well-intentioned. All they had cared about was Harry's grief. And Molly had made it very clear after Harry left Hogwarts just how much Snape's decision had hurt the boy.

Severus had seen Harry only a few times as the years went by. He had seldom ventured outside the school, but one evening some five years after the end of the war, he had gone to the apothecary in Diagon Alley for some specialized supplies. Halfway back to the public Floo, a pair of rowdy young men had stumbled out of a pub, singing at the top of their voices, and the light from the windows had shown on red hair and black hair. Severus had stupidly stopped where he stood, and Ron Weasley had sobered at once upon spotting him. But he'd rallied fast and steered his friend quickly away from Snape. Harry, tipsy on spirits and life, never saw him.

Which, Severus had reminded himself on numerous occasions, was all the better for Harry.

Some years after that, one of the only occasions Harry had ever seen Snape in public, it had again been in Diagon Alley. It had given the Potions Master more than a small shock to see Harry and Ginevra accompanied by a red-haired, green-eyed child: Lily Potter. Her hair was a much darker red than her mother's. Remus Potter's eyes were brown, but he had that same untidy black hair. He had heard the Potters telling Florean Fortesque, in a conversation Severus had made no move to join, that their twins would be starting at Hogwarts the following year.

One week later, Severus had given Minerva his notice. He had had enough of history repeating itself at Hogwarts. Despite Minerva's entreaties for him to participate in Board discussions or staff reunions, he had remained in his small house in the woods of Wales and had not returned to Hogwarts once during the years that Potter's children were there. Teaching a second Percy Weasley had been bad enough.

No doubt Lily Potter, Remus Potter, and Melanie Potter had been raised on their parents' legends. It was an amusing thought, to wonder what they had been told about Snape.

"How is your family?" he asked.

Potter sighed. "Well. Lily starts with the Auror Program next year, and Remus is going to university. Mellie's captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team."

"I suppose you are still living with Black in that cottage next to the Weasleys'."

"It's expanded a bit, but yes. Sirius loves the kids, and the Weasleys are their grandparents," he said. "I like it too."

He supposed Harry would surround himself with family, having been deprived of it in his youth. The last Severus had heard, Ron Weasley and his wife, Granger, were living at the much-improved Burrow, to the great delight of Molly and Arthur. Between their assorted broods (Potter's three children and Weasley's two sons) it was a wonder anyone in either house could hear themselves speak.

He was tired. As Harry came closer to his bedside, he told him, "You have done well, then."

The boy who was now a man smiled faintly and said, "Yeah. Daresay I have. I have a lot of people to thank for that." Severus snorted. "You were always too hard on yourself. You deserved a better life."

"My life has been to my satisfaction, thank you. And I don't want your pity."

Now it was Potter who snorted. Where had he picked that habit up? "I never pitied you. At least, not for your adult life." Severus bared his teeth at him; he knew full well what Harry meant. Surprisingly, the thought of the boy pitying him for what he'd seen in Snape's childhood did not trouble Snape terribly. Harry changed the subject. "You've heard I'm starting at Hogwarts this year?" Severus nodded. There had been much weeping when Harry Potter had retired from his very successful Auror career a few months ago. "I'm teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."

It was difficult to find the breath anymore, but Severus could not help but laugh. At Harry's startled reaction, he said weakly, "Knowing that school, you may find more excitement as a teacher than you did as an Auror. Your dark foes have been rather tame since the end of the war."

Despite the Resurrection Spell that Wormtail and the other Death Eaters had developed, the efforts of Potter and the Order in the years after the war had prevented it from ever being used. No one but Sirius Black had ever returned through the veil, and the last of the Death Eaters had died in Azkaban. None of the late, unlamented Voldemort's followers remained alive now...aside from Severus Snape.

Harry smiled at him. "Good point. I think I understand now why the teachers were always so tense. It's never dull with children around." Snape laughed again.

 _And unlike myself, you enjoy being surrounded by urchins._ The boy's desire to spend all his time with loved ones had made it a foregone conclusion. To live in a house full of family was undoubtedly the boy's greatest desire. Like Andromeda Black, love had been his supreme goal in life. He had got what he wanted, and for that, Severus could not deny he was glad. Nor could he deny the boy had deserved it.

_You've gone soft, Snape. Then again, you went soft a long time ago._

A voice floated past the open door then, some witch exclaiming, "Harry _Potter_ came to see him, of all the…" Harry grimaced and went to close the door.

"I expect they wonder why their sainted hero would stoop to visiting a creature such as me," Severus remarked.

"Let them wonder. It's none of their bloody business," Harry said curtly. Severus eyed him. The boy had, as Snape had asked, refrained from speaking about Snape, even when public opinion and talk had been most decidedly unkind to his former professor. But Snape could see now that Harry was well aware of what had been said—and resented it. "You deserved better than that. You should have gotten the same things we did."

"I was surprised they even gave me Second Class," Severus said dismissively. He suspected Harry _had_ been involved in bringing that about. However, he didn't voice that suspicion now; it didn't make any difference. "In any case, I cared little for their accolades or lack thereof."

"You did once," Harry pointed out, undoubtedly thinking of the first encounter he'd witnessed between Snape and Black.

"Much changed after that, as you well know." He met the younger man's distressed gaze and said firmly, "I am the last of the Death Eaters, Harry. The last of those who were taught by Voldemort. There will be much rejoicing when I am gone."

"You're not a Death Eater," Harry said quietly, stubbornly.

 _Silly child._ "You saw me take pleasure in debasing you your first year, Potter. You were a child, and I did everything I could to hurt you. Do not absolve me."

"But you changed," Harry replied. "You stopped. I couldn't have defeated him without you."

Severus scowled and looked away. "You should go."

"You know I won't."

With a sigh, Severus muttered, "I see your naivete remains as strong as ever. In any case, I haven't the energy to argue the point." He heard Harry take up a seat beside the bed. He knew the boy had always wondered what had brought about Snape's apparent change of heart…and Severus had no intention of telling him. The boy had wondered a lot of things.

_"WHICH PART OF ME DO YOU HATE MOST, SNIVELLUS? MY FATHER'S FACE OR MY MOTHER'S EYES?"_

It had been a toss-up, really. It had changed from day to day. James Potter had tormented Severus beyond measure during their school days, but Lily Evans…she had been a source of torment too, in her own right. Severus had hated James all the more when he had learned of their marriage and the birth of their child. James Potter had been the last man in the world to deserve a child with those eyes. And it had only grown worse when the boy had come to Hogwarts, like a character from a nightmare. Severus had hated him. He had hated the father, who had been just as capable of cruelty as most aspiring Death Eaters in his year, and the mother, whose artless green eyes had revealed generosity and pity and kindness, and who had been the last woman James Potter deserved. Severus had hated them both.

Until America. Severus had never believed James Potter capable of the kind of love Lily Evans sought. But there had been no denying it in the battle beneath the Capitol. The boy who had taunted and teased without mercy had grown up capable of enough love to blow apart a magical stone pillar. The kind of love that moves mountains and all that. The shade Severus had seen had not been James the boy, but a man, who Severus had never met. And Lily…in her face that day, he had seen her plea: to protect her child. The boy with her eyes.

To change his mind after years of hating with all his heart had not been easy, but…he had not been able to refuse her.

And against his will, he had come to know her son. Harry Potter, the boy with James's face and Lily's eyes. Harry was not like James as a child. He was like Lily. And as with his mother, there had been times when the boy's innocence, his goodness and devotion and honesty had made Severus hate him. But at the same time…no one could look into the mind of such a child without being affected.

The question had occupied Snape's mind many times over the years. Had he not been forced to spend so much time in the company of Harry Potter…would he still have tried to save Draco? The boy might have lived longer if he had not become so attached to Severus, and yet…he had died free. And in the arms of one who loved him. Severus had made certain that the boy knew, in the last year before his death, that his worth was his own to determine, not based on servitude or the word of any other.

_Draco…_

Harry was silent, watching Severus lose himself in memories. It happened often, these days. A hazard of dying, but a welcome distraction from the pains of a failing body. Again, his mind strayed to the years away from Harry, and pondered possibilities…no. Harry was not Draco. He was Black's godson. Severus had no right, as he had reminded himself more than once over the years. He had no right to a place in the boy's life.

_I did not deserve it._

And yet, it was Harry who had driven him, somehow, to view the war against Voldemort as a battle worth fighting, not merely for his own survival. To view Draco as one worth fighting for, rather than a lost cause. It was Harry who had led him to hope.

And yet Draco was dead. Practically canonized, a martyr who had turned from evil only to be butchered by his own father, but dead. Severus had been left alone.

 _By my own choice, though._ If there was one thing Harry had made plain, it was that the existence Severus had faced since the war had been his own choice. For some unfathomable reason, the boy would have had it different.

Through the haze that had begun to cloud his senses, he became aware of a sensation that he had not experienced in a very long time: the feeling of a hand, lightly clasping his. Through dimming eyes, he sought its source, and found Harry sitting close beside the bed, watching him intently.

"You won't die alone," Harry whispered.

Severus drew a painful, labored breath, and saw the younger man tremble. A tear slid down his face, and Severus watched it, fascinated.

_How many of those who sneered and derided this former Death Eater may boast that the Boy Who Lived wept for them?_

What an odd thought. And yet…a gratifying one. Even comforting. Forcing his waning energy to speaking, Severus met Harry's brimming green eyes and whispered, "Thank you."

* * *

 

Harry had learned many things from Severus Snape. Not all of them were terribly pleasant lessons (particularly the one about how pointlessly cruel people could be), but the most important ones…well, they had been worth learning.

At seventeen, he'd been too young to understand why Snape had done what he did after the war, and even when he had understood, it had been a long time before he'd forgiven the Potions Master. But he had, and here, now, Snape knew it. The man had always been able to read Harry ridiculously easily. Harry just hoped that the self-imposed exile had given Snape the time and solitude he needed to finally forgive himself. He deserved it.

School would be starting in a few weeks. No doubt, the Ravenclaws had ideas that Professor Potter would be sympathetic to them, since his youngest daughter was in their House. But Melanie knew better. Arthur, Ron's youngest, was constantly demanding to know if Harry would be the new Head of Gryffindor House, but somehow it seemed unlikely that Professor Tonks would give up her post. She was more fun anyway.

 _I just hope I do as good a job protecting Hogwarts as you did,_ he thought, tightening his grip on the former Potions Master's hand. Snape's strength was waning fast, but Harry thought he felt an answering squeeze.

The man had changed so much, even in those first seven years—good lord, was that all?—that Harry had known him. In the end, Harry supposed that was what he had realized from the time he'd spent with Snape. It was never too late to change. Snape had taught that to Draco, and even if Draco hadn't lived, it had been the right thing. And Harry knew, as he'd tried to explain to Snape, that Draco had never regretted it.

And as for Harry, he had meant what he'd told the dying man. _I couldn't have defeated Voldemort without you._ Snape had made him strong, and not just by pushing him around. When he thought about it, Harry could think of few people he had ever known who were that strong. Who could make the sacrifices that Severus Snape had made, or try as hard as Snape had to do what was right. A strange thought, but it was true: in the end, Snape had tried very hard to do right, by Draco, by the Order, and at last, by Harry.

 _He tried to protect me by sending me away._ Snape had been a harsh judge, of himself most of all, and had sought to protect their side after the war by distancing himself. He'd understood things about Harry that Harry himself hadn't understood. _I wouldn't have cared what people thought. I'd have stood up for him. I wasn't ashamed._ Snape had known that, of course. That was why he'd done it.

Silence was thick in that clean, white room as he sat there, his hand on Snape's to remind the man of his presence. The only sound, very faint, was Snape's increasingly-weak breathing. When it finally stopped, Harry gave his hand one final squeeze, and let him go.

Ginny was in the waiting room when he came out, wiping his face, and silently took his hand, watching him with sympathetic eyes as they left the hospital. She tried to steer him past the little news stand near the door, but he saw it: a special edition of the _Prophet_ , the only one Severus Snape had ever rated.

_Last of Former Death Eaters Dies At St. Mungo's!_

As they made their way out of the hospital, Harry closed his eyes for a moment, remembering what he had seen in the aftermath of the battle at Godric's Hollow, and the people who had met him there. He hoped Snape would get the welcome he deserved.

At that thought, he whispered aloud, "Be nice to him, Dad. He's a friend of mine."

* * *

**The End**


End file.
